Past Is Prologue
by Objessions
Summary: AU - This is part present time life/mission and part origin story through memories, flashbacks, and true confessions. Some language, canon typical violence (ie torture, battle, fighting), medical stuff, and lots of cliffhangers. I am making this up as I go. (Fair warning, the girlfriend isn't here to stay, so no lasting romance - thought you should know). Enjoy!
1. Chapter 1

**Past is Prologue**

 _A/N – Welcome back to my crazy little corner of the fandom. Hope you all liked my last fic The Center Cannot Hold. I think it's all shiny now as far as edits and little enhancements, so if you give it another look, you may find a better story than the one you last saw (I hope so anyway – I'm a little obsessive with my edits and revisions). I've had numerous requests via that piece for my version of the Mac/Jack origin story and I've also had some interest in the next chapter in the saga that is life after Nikki I started to explore there. Because I am a desperate people pleaser, especially when it comes to my readers, I've decided to tackle both together, through a current mission/life and flashbacks/memories/confessions. I know what you're thinking … And you're probably right … That's crazy town. But I love living on the edge. And no matter what, I promise bromancy, whumpy, hurt/comforty, exciting stuff. Also, because someone asked me a thoughtful question, I just want to add, the OC Becca is not here to stay and isn't going to Mary Sue this fic up. She's a connection between The Center Cannot Hold and this story. I felt like I should say that up front so no one worries that the some girl in a lab coat is going to turn into the hero of the piece. I also hate to admit a character is a plot device, but she kind of is. Anyhow ... Looking forward to hearing from you all about this adventure! (As before, I own nothing.)_

He knew it was light out, was probably later than he'd planned on sleeping, but he was comfortable, and he didn't want to wake his companion. He knew it wouldn't keep forever; they both had work, but it was so pleasant to lay there half-awake with her tucked into the crook of his arm, he didn't want to jostle her awake and start their day just yet. Besides, she had to be exhausted. Having spent the last two weeks at a conference in Paris meant the jetlag would probably be epic this morning. Even though he'd been traveling as well, it didn't usually hit him particularly hard. He still hardly ever slept worth a damn anyway. Although, he had to admit, while neither of them was ready to even skirt around the edges of the living-together relationship conversation, he did prefer the nights they spent together, and not just for the obvious reasons that his friends intimated every time they were around to see her leave, or him come home. It was sort of nice to have a girlfriend who was read in to enough of what Phoenix did that he didn't have to lie all the time, but who wasn't cleared for any specifics of his job, so there was no shop talk when they were together. Well, almost no shop talk. Last night, for the first time, she expressed some real curiosity about his scars. He supposed it made sense. Between their two jobs it had been nearly a month since they'd seen each other so they were pretty focused on taking each other in. The fresh set of stitches along his forearm was probably more responsible for it than anything though.

When they'd gotten to his place after dinner and he'd taken off his jacket, Becca had homed in on the injury with Jack Dalton-like speed. "Mac! What happened?" she asked as she took his hand, more so she could lift his arm and look at it than because she was interested in holding it.

He shook his head and shrugged. "Work."

"Like, 'you did something dumb in the lab' work … or 'you could tell me but you'd have to kill me' work?"

Then he'd grinned, "Little from Column A …"

Later, she'd insisted on cleaning the long stinging cut before bed. They hadn't really talked about her staying the night, but it seemed very natural since she still had her bags from the flight home in the back of Mac's jeep. She had never paid much attention before, but Mac's arms and torso were a fine network of faint scars. She didn't want to be "that girlfriend"; she knew he couldn't always talk about what he did, and she imagined, from his many scars, that some of them came with memories he'd probably rather not drudge up, but she was very curious about his past, especially because their discussions about her work told her without a doubt that he would be brilliant in any scientific field he applied himself to. They were lying in bed a while later, Becca trying to doze off comfortably curled up in one of Mac's soft t-shirts, and Mac stretched out over the covers, wearing just the pajama bottoms that went with the t his girlfriend had appropriated, reading the pre-briefing materials on his company tablet, and she reached out and traced a scar near his right hip. He let out a little puff of air through his nose that was almost a laugh and squirmed away, putting down his tablet and turning onto his side. "Aren't you too tired to tickle people who are supposed to be working?"

"Never," she grinned. "Appendix?" He frowned. "The scar. Was it your appendix?"

"Well, that's what I told Bozer at the time." He shook his head. "Switchblade, actually. Although, come to think of it, it probably came pretty close to my appendix."

He rolled onto his back and reached out to pull her against him. He could feel her frowning against his bare shoulder. "Are all of your scars from dangerous work stuff?"

"Of course not. I can do crazy stupid stuff on my own time, too." He chuckled. "You know the really bad scar on my knee?"

"The one that Jack says we're not allowed to talk about even if they declassify it?"

"That's the one … I already had a scar there from when I was … fourteen, I think."

"What did you do? Wipe out running away from a garage-based nuclear meltdown?"

Mac laughed, but it was slightly embarrassed. So far he thought he'd kept Bozer from Bozering him by telling Becca too many tales of his misspent youth, but that comment was much too close to real life events for comfort. He'd have to start unpacking some of that with her before Bozer got there first. "I never built a reactor _at home_ …"

He raised his eyebrows provocatively and she laughed. There was a story there and she'd get it eventually, but for the moment, she wasn't going to be sidetracked. "So what happened to your knee?"

 _Okay, scars are cool. Especially if you're not the one who bled to get them, but I've never found them as interesting as Becca seems to tonight. Maybe I should be flattered that she's more interested in my body than the non-home based nuclear reactor._

"I motorized my skateboard, and I maybe gave it a little too much juice, because even though I was doing pretty good … I got cocky and tried a nollie … A nollie is when you …"

"I know what a nollie is, Mac. Jeez." It was easy for Mac to forget that she was several years older than he was, had grown up right here in LA, and had been surfing and riding since he was in kindergarten.

"So, you know it should've been easy, but I scorpion'd hard." He found himself about to explain that particular wipeout but she was already grinning, picturing it. It was so nice to not have to translate himself for someone. "I limped around on it for like two weeks before Boze ratted me out to my granddad."

"Was it bad?"

Mac shrugged. "Worse than it would've been if I'd just 'fessed up to begin with. Jack says that story is proof that you can't teach an old dog new tricks. Because he says … and it's probably a fair assessment … that I am worse about reporting injuries than anyone he's ever met including him." Mac laughed. "I ratted _him_ out after our last mission though. It was kind of fun. I'm starting to see why he does it to me so often."

She had reached up and brushed another faint silver line that spanned several inches of the left side of his chest above his small scar from the shooting at Lake Como. "This looks old too. Another daring adventure on the mean streets of Mission City?"

Mac shifted uncomfortably. This relationship was not so serious that he was interested in opening that can of worms. "Um … no …"

"Well what happened?" she pressed.

He swallowed. "I got that in Afghanistan."

She pulled her hand away like she'd been burned. "Oh. Oh, Mac, I'm sorry. I know you don't like to talk about …"

He reached over and turned off the light and then pulled her into his arms. "Rebecca, it's okay. Sometimes it's going to come up, I guess. But this doesn't seem to be helping you get sleepy. Maybe I can think of something that will."

And he had.

Now, Mac realized he could smell coffee, but not hear the sounds of Bozer moving around the kitchen. It was late. He peeled his eyes open to find Becca's half-lidded green eyes gazing at him drowsily, still too jetlagged to be really awake. "Morning, Becs."

She blinked a few times, "Morning. Ugh. My brain thinks it's bedtime. I really hate traveling for work." She rolled over and picked up her phone off the nightstand. When she looked at the time she swore and jumped out of bed, grabbed her bag, and ran into the bathroom, after using her Lyft app to summon a ride. Mac did not help matters by joining her in the shower.

When Jack showed up to pick Mac up for the briefing about ten minutes after Becca had left for her lab, he found Mac sitting on a stool at the counter, gazing thoughtfully into his cup of coffee. He glanced up when he heard Jack coming. "Hey, Jack. Glad I'm not the only one who had a hard time crawling out of bed this morning."

Jack chuckled, picking up the cup of coffee Mac pushed his way and taking a drink. "Yeah, well, I'm dragging because I'm still in the wrong time zone from last week. I'm guessing you're dragging because the lovely Dr. Madden was finally back in the right one." He gave an amused double raise of his eyebrows.

First Mac grinned. "Yeah, that's fair." Then he sighed. "I had a hard time sleeping, even though it's great to have her back." Jack didn't respond, just waited for Mac to fill the silence, something he had been more inclined to do in the few months since starting therapy. "She asked me about the scar on my chest … not the one from Lake Como …"

"Ah," Jack figured those conversations would start to happen now that the pair had been seeing each other for a little while. "You think maybe it's time to have a chat about that stuff with Sissy?"

Six months ago the mere suggestion that therapy might be helpful would have made Mac furious. Now, he was grateful Jack had suggested it and that he'd managed to not be his usual stubborn self and give it a try. "Yeah. I think maybe it is. I wonder if she's free this afternoon."

Mac took out his phone to find out as Jack refilled their coffees.


	2. Chapter 2

The briefing had seemed interminable. Most of it had nothing whatsoever to do with Mac's ops team. They had mostly been called in so they'd be prepared to act as virtual consults for a team that was already in country and might need some advice about less conventional methods to get the job done. So, when Matty said his name, Mac took a second before he looked up from the fidget cube Riley had given him a few weeks ago. It wasn't quite as satisfying as paper clip sculptures, but it seemed a lot less distracting to his co-workers. When they made eye contact, he realized the other Phoenix staff were filing out, including Jack who gave him a very concerned look before he left with Todd to go prepare a tactical contingency plan for the field team. "Sorry Matty. I completely missed what you said there," he admitted. "The joystick on this cube is weirdly engrossing."

Matty gave a small, almost sad smile, and sat down in the chair next to him. "I was just asking you to hang back so we could talk about a mission. Alone."

Mac's eyebrows rose fractionally. "Without Jack?"

Matty bit her lip, almost regretful. "If you say yes to this, we'll loop the rest of the team in tomorrow, but I wanted to present it to you alone so you would understand that there is no pressure here for you to do this. If you say no, we'll find another way to go about this mission."

Mac swallowed hard, terrible suspicion growing in the pit of his stomach. "Is this about the _Bethlehem_ taskforce?"

"It is." She had some real admiration for MacGyver's intellect, but sometimes how quickly he caught on was disconcerting. "We've received a communication through one of the channels you helped us set up. There is credible evidence that it is Miss Carpenter and that she is reaching out to you again."

His mouth was so dry now, he was unable to answer. He got up, running both hands over his face and through his hair. He paced around the room for a minute and then went and got a water bottle off the central table. He drank the whole thing before sitting down next to Matty, who was looking at him with an expression disturbingly like pity that he wanted to put an end to sooner rather than later. "So when do we go after her?"

"Maybe I wasn't clear," Matty was now looking at him earnestly. "You don't have to just jump into this, Mac. Drawing Nikki out is bound to disrupt your life … I know you're in something of a relationship …" She trailed off, not wanting to say that Nikki would not respond well to Mac with a girlfriend and might just rabbit if she showed up at his place to find someone else's bra drying on the towel rack.

"Oh! That's why you're looking at me like somebody died. I thought you had intel that Nikki was already coming after me or the team or something." He looked relieved and Matty didn't know what to make of that. "I … I can talk to Becca … Just let her know that we need to take a break …"

Matty was immediately worried. Jack had warned her over and over again that Mac would willingly sacrifice anything for a mission, most often at great personal cost, and that he would compartmentalize it until it was in real danger of harming him. That was exactly what he'd been working with a therapist about for the last five months, and had been happier, healthier, and better at his job since he'd begun. "Mac, slow down. I know how you think and …"

Mac blushed and held up his hand. "Look, taking a break isn't breaking up. And honestly … this has been mostly … recreational … for both of us." His face flushed brighter, but when he spoke he sounded very confident, very in control. "I got so serious with Nikki so fast, so young … I've actually been trying not to just dive in like that again just yet. I'd like my own head on a little straighter before I make a commitment to someone."

Now Matty felt she could be back in Director-mode, at least mostly. "And you're sure you're head is on straight enough to handle what may be in front of you with Miss Carpenter and this mission?"

"No," Mac said very honestly. "I'm not." Matty waited for him to continue. "I've thought I was on top of my feelings for Nikki before … and I … I wasn't. I think too much confidence here would be bad. I know I'm going to need back-up."

"I agree."

Mac shook his head, his mouth starting to feel dry again at the prospect of what all of this might mean, of what they might discover when they dug deeper on Nikki and her connections to Bethlehem and The Organization, even about what that might mean for Patricia Thornton's imprisonment. And even though he and Rebecca had been keeping their relationship very casual, he wasn't exactly looking forward to that conversation either. He forced a self-deprecating chuckle. "Glad I was already planning on a chat with Marissa today anyway …" He glanced at his watch. "Speaking of …"

"Go ahead, Mac. I'll plan a briefing for nine a.m. for the rest of the team. But please know that if you sleep on it and decide you don't want to be the lead agent on this, I will more than understand."

Mac thanked his boss and headed out to his appointment with his therapist, wondering if she had any extra time today. His thoughts were a jumbled mess, and the very skilled mental carpenter he had trained over the years was just itching to start rebuilding old walls.

0-0-0

Mac had been quiet on the ride back to his place, his eyes distant. Jack made a few overtures of conversation, but Mac had been only marginally responsive. Mac had come out of his session with his therapist with his face pink and freshly washed, a sign that there had probably been tears at some point. Not that it was an unusual way to leave therapy, just usually these days if Jack was driving, Mac would say something about it having been a rough session and then ask for the most disgusting take out he could think of. Today, he'd climbed in the car and just sighed, then he'd asked Jack how the tactical planning session with Todd had gone, just to give the older man something to talk about. When they arrived at his place, Mac's face scrunched up in an expression that looked like a monster headache. The other cars and trucks in the parking area reminded him they'd all planned to cookout on the deck tonight. Mac sighed again and climbed out of Jack's car, fishing his own keys out of his jacket.

"Hey, Jack, I've gotta take care of something. Can you keep everybody entertained, help Boze out with dinner?"

Jack got out and came around to stand next to Mac. He tried to keep the concern in his voice to a minimum, but when he spoke he knew he'd failed pretty miserably. "Sure, bud. What's goin' on?"

Mac raked a hand through his hair. He'd been doing that so much the last few hours, he looked like he'd just rolled out of bed. "I've gotta run Becca's bags to her place. I was going to drop them off with her last night but we … got distracted …"

One of Jack's eyebrows climbed. "I thought she was comin' to dinner?"

"Um, yeah … no … Not tonight." Mac climbed into his jeep. "You don't mind dealing with dinner?"

"'Course not, brother. You okay for real though?" Jack was worried this was shades of Mac from a few months ago.

Jack felt a little better when Mac tipped him a small half-smile. "Not even a little. But I'll tell you about it later. I want to go get this over with."

0-0-0

When Mac got back a few hours later, he'd been expecting a barbecue in full swing, but instead he found an empty house (which meant Jack had fed everyone and then kicked them out, including Bozer who'd probably gone home with Beth again). Jack was waiting on the back deck with a pleasant fire going in the pit. He handed Mac a beer and sat down near the blaze so he could poke around in it. Mac sat down next to him with a sigh. "So," Jack opened. "The _Bethlehem_ taskforce again, huh?"

Mac glanced at him. "You talked to Matty?"

Jack turned to him. "Damn right I did, bud. You came out of her office looking like you'd seen a ghost. Then you came out of Sissy's office lookin' like you'd been … Anyhow, you worried me this afternoon and I figured she knew what was what."

"Yeah." Mac took the poker from Jack so he could stir the coals in the pit. It was soothing.

"You break up with Becca?"

Mac actually gave a small smile. "Sort of … She was really cool about it actually. I never realized how un-intense relationships could be. I guess that's what happens when you're raised by an old man and your only girlfriend before you join the Army is the girl who threw up on your shoes when you dissected frogs in biology."

"Penny Parker threw up on your shoes?"

"Penny threw up on everything in the bio lab. My shoes just didn't survive." Mac chuckled a little. "Becca said to call when whatever mission I was in a twist about was over if I want and then …" Mac blushed, and bit his lip.

Jack grinned and elbowed him. "She said a very friendly 'see you around'?" Mac just chuckled again and took a swig of his beer. "So … if you're good with what went down with you and your lady friend, why do you still look like someone ran over your cat, kid?"

Mac poked the fire for a few minutes, then glanced at Jack. "Nikki."

"Well, yeah, I know you got a lotta baggage around that particular name, but …"

"It's like you said, Jack. She's my kryptonite. I don't think clearly around her. I never really have. And I'd like to think I've moved past that with all the work I've been doing with Marissa, but when Matty said she'd reached out … I felt happy for a second, Jack." Mac's voice took on a tinge of real desperation. "I can't trust that I'll be able to … do what needs doing, I guess."

Jack put down his beer and slung an arm around Mac's shoulders, "Fortunately for you, you got your very own kryptonite antidote right here."

Mac smirked, "The only antidote is blue kryptonite and it only counteracts red kryptonite temporarily."

"It's official; you and Steve are hanging out too much. I'm banning all nerdy conversations on the plane when you should be sleeping from here on out." Mac snickered. He and Steve could geek up a flight with the best of them. "But seriously, Mac. I won't let her pull you under again."

Jack's dark eyes were very sincere, and Mac could see behind them Jack's real determination to get to the bottom of the Nikki situation and maybe bury her there. Knowing Jack had his back made the idea of tomorrow just a little easier to face.


	3. Chapter 3

"Nikki! No!"

Mac sat bolt upright in bed, panting. He'd left the light on after the third nightmare shoved him out of sleep a few hours earlier, so at least this time there was none of the panicked flailing around in the dark, unsure if he was awake or just falling in between the levels of hell his brain could create for him on nights like this. This time he was drenched with sweat, his t-shirt clinging to him in the too warm room. _Damn. The a/c must've frozen up again._ He glanced at the clock. Three a.m. _Oh, well. Might as well get up and fix it before the heat wakes up Bozer._ At this point Mac had no interest in going back to sleep. In his bathroom, he stripped off the nasty shirt and turned on the water. He splashed as much cool water on himself as he could reasonably manage without having to change his sleep pants, too. As he toweled off, he noticed the angry pink marks around the scars on his chest. He'd been clawing at them in his sleep, obviously; he hadn't done that in a long time. The little round puckered mark was barely noticeable, not really advertising how nearly deadly that bullet wound had been, and the longer silver line above it looked like nothing now, but had been just as dangerous in its own way. Mac took a deep breath and pulled on a clean t-shirt as he passed back through his room and grabbed his Swiss Army knife off his nightstand determined to get the air conditioning running before another hot Saturday in LA where he'd be stuck just hanging around, waiting to see if this was the day Nikki would finally respond to the new message he'd sent out from Phoenix.

Jack arrived a few hours later to help pass the time and talk about next steps if their objective, now codenamed _Irene_ by Jack (which had actually made Mac laugh – he couldn't get over Jack's Sherlock addiction, and he kindly didn't point out that Jack avoided the more obvious reference of Adler, knowing how touchy a subject Sarah still was for him). He ran into Bozer who was on his way out for a beach date with Beth. Boze shook his head and widened his eyes. "I don't know Jack … When I got up this morning, I found Mac with the entire a/c system torn apart. He hasn't eaten anything I've offered him … and he's been swimming laps for over an hour … He was still in the pool when I stuck my head out to tell him I was leaving."

"Thanks for the heads up, Boze."

Jack patted him on the shoulder on his way by, considering how he wanted to handle this. This was classic 'Mac not dealing with things' behavior and Jack didn't want a mission Mac could've turned down to be such a huge setback for him. He decided to go full big brother on him; half jackass, half gentle advice. He slipped into the guest bathroom and changed into a pair of trunks he kept there and grabbed one of his own oversized towels. For guys who spent a lot of time in the pool or on the beach, Jack though Mac and Bozer owned the stingiest towels he'd ever seen. He padded out into the pool area in his bare feet, and just like Bozer had warned, Mac was swimming back and forth, cutting through the water like a blade, his motions practiced, precise, and incredibly fast and determined.

"Hey, Mac!" Jack called to get his attention. He didn't want to startle his friend. He'd had almost a week of this waiting, thinking, and waiting some more so it was no wonder he was falling back on some less productive old habits in the face of that stress. Mac just kept swimming. "Mac!" he tried again. Still no response. Jack shook his head. There was one way to do this. Jack took a running start and cannonballed into the middle of the pool, immediately surfacing and gasping for breath from the shock of the cold water.

"Jesus, Jack!" Mac barked, clearly surprised, bordering on shaken.

Jack wiped the water out of his face. "Sorry, bud. I tried yellin' but you didn't seem to hear me."

Mac hauled himself up out of the water, to sit on the nearest edge of the pool, still hanging his feet in. He swept his wet hair back, and then shook his head. "So scaring the shit out of me instead of just waiting until I was done, or getting in the pool by the ladder like a normal person made sudden perfect sense to you…"

Jack swam over and joined Mac on the edge. "Well, 'sense' might be a strong word."

Mac laughed in spite of himself. "With you it usually is."

"Did staying up half the night, skipping breakfast, and pretending you were swimming the English Channel as part of a super important race seem particularly sensible to you, then? Just want to know how judged I should feel," Jack teased gently.

Mac looked away. "The a/c broke." Jack didn't respond, just let the silence hang between them. "Okay. I couldn't sleep … Nightmares."

This time Jack pointed to the scratches visible around the scars on Mac's chest. "Bad ones, huh?"

Mac pulled his feet out of the water, got up, walked across the deck, and grabbed his t-shirt off a beach chair. He pulled it on, ignoring how wet he still was and that the shirt wanted to cling to him and he had to wrestle with it a little bit. Mac deflected, "You want a cup of coffee?"

Jack got to his feet and draped his towel around his hips so his trunks wouldn't drip through the whole house. "Sure," he allowed and followed the still-dripping Mac inside, careful not to slip in the wet footprints his friend was heedless of leaving behind.

Jack spread his towel on one of the stools at the counter and sat down, watching Mac make something of a show of fixing them coffee. When he finally couldn't fuss with preparations anymore, he had to pass Jack his cup and sit down next to him. "Enough sugar?" he asked Jack casually.

"Mmmhmm," Jack answered, giving Mac a familiar speculative look. "Let's try this again. Bad nightmares, bud?"

Mac glanced away, scratching absently at the spot high on his chest, currently covered by his t-shirt, until he noticed Jack watching him do it. He put both hands around his coffee cup and looked into the dark liquid very deliberately. "Yeah … yes. Very bad, actually."

"You gonna go see Sissy?"

"Can't." Mac shrugged. "Not until we either scrap the current plan or move on to a different phase. All my downtime has to be at home. So, I'm stuck here. Waiting."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Mac shook his head. "Not really." Jack was about to say that he understood when Mac went on. "But I sort of talked to her last time … I brought up my scars and …" Mac trailed off.

"I wish you weren't so self-conscious about things that tell the world what a hero you are, kid."

"I notice yours don't seem to bother you much," Mac observed with an admiring hint to his voice.

Jack sat up a little straighter. "Damn straight, brother. I earned these babies."

Jack's tan only highlighted the roadmap of scars that marked his whole body, and he didn't bother with long swim trunks either, opting instead for ones that looked more like running shorts and didn't conceal several GSW scars on his legs at all. He had a fair number of tattoos, but a few of them were clearly done around interesting scars to highlight them, rather than hide them, as tributes to fallen friends and even a few to guys who'd made it home to have kids of their own because of what he'd done. Mac gave him a small smile. "Maybe I should get some tattoos on my scars, too."

Jack patted him on the shoulder. "Knowing how you feel about people jabbing you with pointy objects, I'm pretty sure you wouldn't like it."

Mac shook his head, laughing, and gave Jack a half-hearted punch on the arm. "Shut up. Jackass." What was it about just sitting with Jack and giving each other shit that made things seem easier? "Anyway, I told Marissa that Becca asked about my scar …" Jack nodded so Mac wouldn't have to get more specific unless he wanted to. "She suggested that maybe it bothers me so much because I still don't remember everything, don't know all the parts of the story, and that since I like to be in control, not knowing might be making the anxiety worse. She said I should maybe talk to you and see if we could piece it all together. That it might help … I got pretty pissed off at her."

Jack grinned. "Usually a pretty fair indication that she's on the right track, I've found." Mac nodded. Jack shivered. "Jeez Mac, you fixed the hell outta that a/c, bud." Jack got up and went to grab his black t-shirt, both because it was genuinely chilly inside now, but also to give the kid a minute to think. When he came back in the room, Mac was sitting on the couch on his folded towel. Jack thought it best to just join him there so he grabbed his towel and did the same. "Did the really bad nightmares start then?"

Mac shook his head. "No … I mean, not any worse than they ever are." He paused, tilting his head in a thoughtful movement. "It started when Matty had me send the follow up message to try to get Nikki to show herself. Now the dreams are all jumbled up. Like sometimes it's even Nikki in that cave …" Mac's voice caught. "Sometimes it's Zahir holding the gun at Lake Como …"

Mac got up abruptly. Jack said only his name to communicate his concern. "Mac?"

"I want to go get into some dry clothes."

"Then do you want to talk? See if I can fill in the gaps and see if it helps? Two unknowns that both almost got you killed is a lot for one brain to handle. Even if that brain happens to be the ginormous supra genius melon of Angus MacGyver."

"Supra genius, huh?" Mac smirked. "You need to stop watching cartoons before you come over in the morning Jack."

It was a small joke, but Jack would take it. "Yeah, well, I don't want the parts of your brain makin' you have those dreams to Roadrunner you. Think of them as training videos."

Mac was actually chuckling when he closed the door of his bathroom.

When he came back to the couch a short time later, dressed in sweats and an old, soft Army PT t-shirt, he found Jack had changed back into his street clothes and was waiting, looking worried and, of course, trying to hide that fact.

Mac folded his legs under him in a loose lotus position and rested his elbows on his knees. Jack was trying to think of something to say to make this easier, but Mac started speaking quietly with no preface.

"I was asleep when they hit our patrol; first decent sleep I'd had in a week."


	4. Chapter 4

"Sarge, lookit Woody … Kid's out cold."

The older man tossed a glance at the young blond who was, in fact, dead to the world, face pressed against the window, and softly snoring. Butler chuckled, just a little. Goddamn; wide awake the kid looked about sixteen, but asleep, thirteen was closer. And he knew it wasn't fair, that the blond was a man, a soldier, well-trained, serious, and brave as a honey badger, but since his own son back home was just entering his middle teen years, he couldn't help the little stab of nostalgia, of affection, he felt looking at the completely sleep-smooth face of this talented tech once his body forced that mind of his to shut down for a little while. Of course his bunkmate who was sitting next to him looked, and was, even younger and wide awake advertised his youth in a way that Hollywood, _né_ Angus MacGyver, just didn't even deeply asleep. "Good. He could use a break. The Pass was kinda rough on him."

"Kinda rough on everybody," was the almost petulant mumbled contribution of that selfsame bunkmate, Richard 'Ricky' Thompson.

Johnson cuffed him on the leg, stifling a chuckle. "Whachoo bitchin' 'bout, Pickles? You're still so green, boss didn't hardly let you outta the damned truck. Hollywood busted his ass keepin' everybody from gettin' blowed up the whole damned time. You don't get a nap, 'cause you didn't bring your blankie anyway."

Thompson, in a rare show of a certain amount of restrained New England sass, glanced at his sleeping friend and said, "You guys know he hates when you call him Hollywood."

Next to Sarge, the driver, Mendez laughed, "Well then he should'na shown up so fuckin' pretty." There was general subdued laughter all around. Mac was, everyone agreed, about the best looking guy any of them had ever served with, and while he was almost panicked by female attention directed his way, he was an excellent wingman when the unit found itself on leave. Encouraged by the response to his humorous ribbing, Mendez glanced in the mirror and made brief eye contact with Thompson. "Just like you should'na landed in country lookin' like a goddamned toddler if you didn't wanna get nicknamed after a Rugrat."

Thompson glanced at the sleeping Mac and shook his head, but he was grinning. Mac told him a while ago that if the guys teased you and gave you a nickname, even if you hated it – no, especially if you hated it - it meant the squad liked you, had accepted you. Mendez was a good guy, but he didn't always see the line between good-natured teasing and meanness, so the Sergeant took it on himself to change the subject. "Least we finally found a terp worth half a damn."

"Mmm," Johnson mumbled. "I hate all this _farmerbarma_ bullshit. And Cap seems pretty wary of the dude."

"Yeah, well, pays to be with any of the _hajis,_ " Thompson added.

Butler cast an approving glance at the youngest member of their team. "Just listen to you, Pickles," he said proudly. "Startin' to sound like an honest-to-Jesus- soldier, We'll have you squared away like our Woody in no time flat. Betcha by the time we roll back into Jalalabad, people might mistake you for a goddamned professional, son."

Thompson gave a slightly embarrassed laugh, looking even younger than he was, although not as young as his buddy who was now kind of drooling on the window. "Workin' on it, Sarge." He glanced at Mac, and seeing an opportunity to get into the spirit of the team, involving almost constant ribbing that kept the mood light at even the worst of times, he added, "We should wake Woody up before somebody snaps a picture of him and we get the Army in trouble for letting middle schoolers sign up."

One of Mac's eyes cracked open, the bright blue of it shocking against his deeply tanned face and the pervasive beige of the vehicle and the digies he was wearing. "I am awake. And I'm gonna remember you piling on the next time I get feeling pranky, _Pickles_." He emphasized the nickname so his buddy knew that he was now fair game, too.

Thompson rolled his eyes. Pranks were a pretty common form of entertainment back at base, but everyone had told him that they'd learned early on not to target or instigate MacGyver because his retaliation was usually epic. He was distracted from his reply by the sight of an Afghan truck coming their way on the other side of the road, heading back in the direction of Jalalabad. "Man I hope we get a resupply of our own soon. I'm so sick of watching the same damned movies. Like are soldiers just supposed to be into Bruce Willis or something?"

The other guys grinned. The kid was catching on. Endless bitching about the little inconveniences of their lives kept them from dwelling overmuch on the really disturbing parts of it. At that moment, the jingly passed next to them, and for one endless second the driver of it made terrified eye contact with Mendez. He glanced at Butler and they were both about to shout some warning or command but just didn't have the time. The powerful VBIED exploded, sending their vehicle careening off the road and tumbling over itself several times, immediately in flames. The vehicles in front and behind, one carrying more personnel and one carrying the EOD squad's equipment for this particular IED sweep were both damaged, but not nearly as severely. The transport was turned on its side in the ditch, but it hadn't rolled over. The other vehicle was tipped askew but not flipped at all. The men in both were able to get out and start scrambling to deal with the situation; the most pressing concern being their fellow soldiers trapped in the inferno the middle truck had been turned into.

Everyone had been thrown around, but Butler had regained consciousness first and started trying to rouse the other men to get them out of the transport. Mac was the hardest to wake up and had a fair amount of blood trickling out from under his helmet. He'd obviously hit his forehead pretty hard in the crash. When he got to his hands and knees he swayed and then immediately threw up. "Shit," he mumbled, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "Sorry, Sarge," he mumbled.

The soldiers from the other vehicles had gotten there not long after and started pulling them out of the burning truck, while others called in the incident and waited for orders. As the immediate crisis passed, and everyone was a safe distance from the burning vehicle from which they had stripped everything useful, the small group started trying to get the other vehicles road ready. Thompson was pacing aimlessly around where Mac was still sitting on the ground trying not to throw up again. Nobody said anything to Pickles. This incident was the first action he'd seen, and most of them, even the concussed MacGyver, just felt bad for him. They all knew what it was like the first time war got real. After yet another wave of dizzying nausea passed, Mac got slowly to his feet so he could help the team re-secure their Packbot that had been slightly dislodged by the explosion. If this attack was any indication, their new guide had been right about insurgent activity in his village. When Mac got upright, he swayed on his feet, like a kid up well past his bedtime. The team medic stepped in front of him and took him by the shoulders. "I need you to look right at me, Woody." Mac did his best to comply. "Yeah, kid, you sit right back down where you were. That's a real pretty concussion you got there."

Mac tried to shrug the man's hands off. "I'm fine."

The medic shook him gently. "Your pupils are crazy uneven, ya dumbass. No playing with Uncle Sam's expensive robot shit until you don't look seven shades of brain damaged." He looked Mac over a little more carefully. "Looks like you could probably do with ten or fifteen stitches when we get where we're going too."

Mac just sighed and sat back down, feeling worse than he would admit, but not near as bad off as the medic was making him out to be. Deeds wasn't above pulling rank though, so it didn't pay to argue. To give Thompson something to do and a focus other than how dead he could have been, Deeds added, "Hey, Pickles! You're in charge of Hollywood. Make sure his ass stays parked right here till we're ready to move out."

"Yes, sir," the boy said eagerly, relieved to have some task to give his attention to. He plunked down next to Mac and handed him a baby wipe he'd fished out of his pack so his friend could clean some of the blood off his face.

"Thanks, Ricky," Mac said with genuine relief. Ricky mumbled some reply. "Hey … Rick … You okay?" Mac asked with real kindness and concern that made Thompson want to start crying like a baby.

"Says the guy bleedin' on the ground …"

Mac gave his younger friend a brilliant smile that he hoped would reassure him. "This is not, unfortunately, the first time I've been blowed up." Mac took the opportunity to distract the kid with tales of what he'd seen and done in the last year or so since being in country, making sure to minimize the worst of it and make it sound like the grand adventure most people thought they'd have when they enlisted. Slowly, Mac could see it was working. His young friend lost the wide-eyed look of panic he had when Mac first focused his attention on him. Mac also found that talking worked well to distract him from the throbbing in his head and the rolling boil in his stomach. When they were finally ready to move out again it was mostly dark. Mac was feeling pretty pleased when they rolled out because since it had taken so long to get moving again he'd gotten Thompson settled down just nicely and Deeds had given up on the idea of seeing to his head properly and just cleaned and glued the gash near his hairline. It hurt like hell, but was objectively better than being jabbed in the head a bunch of times and then having to deal with the itch of sutures in his sweaty helmet for the next week and a half. Thompson had quickly fallen asleep in the cramped consolidated truck, chin resting on his chest. Deeds had warned Mac to do his best to stay awake, but he was so headachy, so drowsy from the mild concussion he'd gotten that he didn't process the sound he was hearing in the distance. By the time his brain understood that noise as indirect fire it had gotten a lot closer. He was about to say something when the glass shattered and Butler gave a brief, pained, grunt as pink mist filled the air around him. Then the panic Mac had felt when he was first in country, the first time he'd been in a room with a live bomb, ripped through his brain, just like the bullet fired a split second later ripped through the flesh of his arm close to his bicep.


	5. Chapter 5

Jack's forehead was deeply furrowed with his concern. The amount of detail Mac had included in his story so far spoke of almost flashbulb quality memories. Of course, Jack knew Mac had an almost photographic mind (although Mac told him repeatedly there was no such thing and used some sciencey sounding word for it). Jesus, having a mind like that and having taken it to war must be its own kind of hell. Jack had never really thought about that before. One more reason to be glad the kid had come home after his mentor died. This life was no picnic, but it wasn't always life or death, and at least now Jack was able to always watch out for him. "I didn't realize you got shot before they grabbed you."

Mac shrugged. He'd sort of forgotten it too until he was telling the tale. "By the time you guys got to me I was pretty banged up all over … Besides, it was just a graze."

Jack gave him a smile of affectionate frustration. "Really just a graze or more like Grozny-just-a-graze that actually needed surgery?"

Mac returned the smile somewhat wanly, "Really. I forgot that part until I just told you, honestly. Based on what the next two weeks were like I'm not surprised. Their chief, Zahir, was … creative."

Mac had paled visibly and he closed his eyes for a moment. Jack put a steadying hand on his shoulder. "You don't need to go over that part. I know what that was like already."

Mac forced his eyes back open and in them Jack saw the hunted look he knew best from his own mirror in the middle of a long night. "Yeah … I know you do. But it wasn't even what they did to me … Not really … It was knowing they had Ricky at the other camp." Mac paused and took a deep breath. "They kept showing me videos of him, on his knees, on the ground, set up for the kill … And then one of them would pull the trigger and shoot the ground, or up in the air." Mac's breathing was speeding up, and he'd gone from pale to nearly grey. "He looked a little worse every time; thinner, more bruised, bloodier … He was just a kid."

"Hey, Mac," Mac glanced at Jack and then quickly away. "So were you, brother."

Mac shook his head. "I wasn't though. Not anymore. I mean, okay, I wasn't much older than he was, but I'd been in country for almost a year. There he was more or less fresh out of Basic … When they shot him in the leg, I told them I'd give them what they wanted."

Jack pulled Mac into a spontaneous hug and for a change Mac just kind of let it happen. "They tortured you for two weeks … And it was what they did to that kid that was the tipping point."

Mac pulled away and Jack released him, eyes searching his face. "They wanted to know our tradecraft … so they could build EOD-proof bombs, wanted us to show them how to do it. Ricky was a trainee so he didn't know enough to be anything other than leverage. But I did. And I think they knew it. It had been so long, I just didn't think anybody was coming for us, so I …"

Jack patted him on the shoulder. "Sorry about that. We had a helluva time findin' ya."

"I don't doubt that." Mac shrugged, and then shivered. "When I told them I'd do it … Zahir gave me a whole bottle of water. I swear nothing I've ever had before or since compares to how good that tasted." A flash of anger swept across his face. "I hadn't had enough to take a piss in a day and a half. And when he gave me that water … I felt grateful." Mac scrubbed his hands over his face and sighed. "I think that was when I decided to try to blow them all to hell. They'd taken enough that I felt grateful for a drink of water. I didn't know if Ricky was still alive or not. I didn't know if anyone was coming for us … And I just decided that even if I couldn't make it out, neither would they."

"It was an impressive damned explosion. Least we knew we were comin' into the right place."

Mac glanced at him and this time his half-smile was a little more genuine. "Glad I could help." He paused and then said very tentatively, "I don't remember much between the explosions and the field hospital … I don't know if I really want to hear about it, but I guess if we're doing this …"

He trailed off. Jack was nodding thoughtfully, clearly mulling over how to tell this part of the story and how much to leave out. "You know they'd sent videos of both of you." Mac swallowed hard and nodded. "So we weren't positive you guys were still alive." Mac nodded again. Jack smiled. "I saw that big beautiful explosion light up the night and I knew some big damned hero was still alive enough to cause trouble, and by God I was gonna get him home."


	6. Chapter 6

When the first explosion lit up the night, everyone startled just a little and instinctively moved for cover, at least for long enough for their night vision to come back. Then, several more explosions went off at what became almost predictable intervals. Jack Dalton didn't think he'd ever seen a prettier firework show, and his old man used to take them out to the Fourth of July celebrations in Corpus Christi when his was a kid. Those timed, controlled, gloriously destructive blasts were clearly the work of someone who knew their way around the good toys. That meant that it was probably the EOD whose capture had even the General's panties in a wad; of course when you got your ass chewed by someone's CO eight or nine times a day who had lost all concern for rank or propriety, odds were good your undies would get bunchy. After they'd seen some of the video that had made its way back to base though, everybody was pulling for the kid. And that video had been the big break, since it had shown a flyover in the background and some genius had figured out the time of day from the light and shadows and had pegged the flight. It didn't give them an exact location, but it would get the Delta operators close enough to do their thing. Jack was going to consider it a personal affront from the gods if he didn't get to put a bullet into the Terry who he had watched beat the living hell out of a kid that was basically one giant, bloody, skinny bruise. He'd also be existentially offended if he didn't get to buy that same kid a beer someday soon (he knew the kid was still a whisker away from being old enough and didn't give one blackened damn) for the bloody smile he'd given the camera and the extremely offensive epithet he'd spat at the man he called Zahir in flawless Dari. Since the kid's file didn't say anything about him speaking the language, Jack and his team assumed that he'd picked it up in the week and a half he'd been captive. So his file and his CO were both honest when they said the kid was some kind of genius. Jack didn't know about brains, but the video said the kid had big ole brass ones, and sure as hell deserved better than being tortured to death in a cave in God's own outhouse.

Jack's eyes were scanning the hillside, gauging the best approach. He heard Peterson, the team's medic, on the radio calling for a _dust off_ on the double. That was something Jack liked about Punchy; bastard was always optimistic they'd have a patient to take out of whatever hellhole they'd wandered into and not a body. In a series of maneuvers so practiced as to be second nature for a group of seasoned CSS guys who all came into this fight from jobs like CIA, Secret Service, or career spec ops in uniform, the squad fanned out over the hillside, approaching the burning terrorist encampment during a pause in the explosions. As usual, Jack signaled his team that he'd head in to the cave. Enclosed areas were where he shined, when he wasn't half a mile off behind a scope because nothing made the Texan happier than a chance to bust some heads that had it coming to them. He could hear ragged breathing, even over the roar of the fire, and see a shadow moving painfully in the flicker of the flames. Jack slowed his pace and drew his M9, dropping into a modified tactical Weaver stance and advancing carefully. He made his way around a high stack of wooden crates and saw a man standing over the sprawled body of another holding some sort of weapon. From where he was, Jack couldn't tell if the figure on the floor was alive or dead, but he could tell, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that the figure now crouching over the other, with a large curved knife in hand, was Zahir, the leader of this camp. In a fluid movement that was almost beautiful, Jack leveled the barrel of his favorite gun of the moment (which he called Vera with a lover's affection) at the man's head and snuffed out his existence without breaking his stride.

Seconds later he was on the ground next to the body with filthy blond hair, wearing a ripped and bloody beige t-shirt, and what was left of a pair of digital camo pants, but no socks or shoes. The kid was breathing. Well, that was something. He reached out to feel for the kid's pulse, which he found weak and thready. Even though he was filthy, Jack could plainly see the way his skin was stretched over his bones. Dehydrated. Badly. And probably hadn't been fed either. He hollered for Punchy and the young man lying on the ground next to him flinched at the sound of his voice. His eyes moved wildly under his lids for a moment before fluttering open. They were such a bright blue it was a shock in the middle of his grubby face, but Jack thought there were worse surprises in life. "Hey, there, kiddo," he began, putting absolutely all the Texas drawl he could muster into his voice so maybe the kid would recognize him as a friendly. "You are alive. That pretty much makes my day."

Despite the reassuring voice and friendly face, all Mac felt was blind panic. He'd dreamt of rescue often over the last however many days and every time his rescuers had morphed into the people holding him captive, hurting him for their own entertainment. His response was to suck in a deep painful breath and try to scramble away, digging into the earth with his bare feet. Several obvious knife wounds started bleeding more freely and Jack moved to calm the kid down, keep him still. "Easy there, bud. The cavalry has arrived, alright? My buddies are cleaning up this shit hole and we're gonna get you back to your people."

The blond head nodded slowly and he eased himself into a sitting position against the wall of the cave, closing his eyes, and taking some careful, pained breaths, trying to slow the wild gallop of his heart and get his thinking clear. There was something he needed this guy to know, but he couldn't think of what at the moment. As a matter of habit, his eyes searched the other man's clothing for a name, a rank, anything, and saw nothing. So Delta. He had a good chance of actually making it out of here. Then the relief that he truly hadn't been abandoned by his people, that someone had come for him, hit him and it made his eyes fill. The big fella with the kind eyes put a hand gently on his shoulder. "You must be hurtin' pretty bad, huh?" Mac just shook his head. He didn't even bother to try to explain. The feeling of expecting to be left to fend for himself was over a decade old now. "Punchy, goddamnit, move your ass!"

"Punchy? Poor bastard must've pissed somebody off the day Delta was handing out nicknames."

Jesus, this kid had a yard of guts. Didn't look old enough to shave and he was beat six shades of black and blue, but he'd just blowed up a bunch of terrorists and now he was crackin' wise and had already figured out who had shown up on retrieval detail. Jack chuckled and gave the kid a very approving smile. "He's our Bandaid so he's always pissing somebody off. Usually by bein' really good at what he does though."

"I'm Mac … You probably know that …" He trailed off for a second or two. "What can I call you?" He knew using names was typically considered bad form by guys in Delta, but he didn't want to keep thinking of his rescuer as Texas Guy.

"Well, the fine gentlemen that are gonna get your ass home along with me call me Garret. But, so long as you don't go advertisin' it, you can call me Jack." Punchy joined them just then and squatted down on the ground next to Mac. "'Bout time," Jack grumbled.

He started to move to give the medic some space to work, but Mac's hand darted out with startling speed and grabbed him by the wrist. He didn't say anything, but the message in his eyes was very clear, "Don't go. Please." Jack resettled himself on the floor and had the disturbing realization that every time the kid flinched, or squeezed his eyes shut, or even just tightened his jaw while the medic checked him over, Jack nearly felt the pain himself. He raised his eyebrows at Punchy, who was keeping up a steady stream of questions and calm reassurances that he hardly had to think about, but who caught Jack's expression and nodded, reaching into his pack and coming out with a pre-filled syringe.

"Listen, Mac, I'm gonna give you something for the pain, okay?"

Mac shook his head. His voice was a little slurred when he spoke, whether from concussion or simple exhaustion it was hard to say. "I don't need anything. I'm good."

"Funny," the medic grinned. "You thought I was asking as more than a courtesy."

He jabbed the needle into Mac's thigh and the kid let out a string of unexpected curses that would have made any seasoned soldier proud. "Sonofabitch!" he concluded. "When you said 'for pain' I didn't think you meant to make more of it!"

"Sorry 'bout that. Morphine stings some."

Mac started to have a weird almost buzzing feeling deep in his chest and suddenly all of his thoughts were tumbling together. As much as it hurt to move, the feeling made him want to get up and run until he collapsed. His limbs twitched slightly. Punchy and Jack both took it as a sign of dehydration and he heard one of them tell him almost apologetically that he needed IV fluids. That wasn't even a small surprise. Mac shrugged and closed his eyes, mumbling 'whatever' almost under his breath and trying to get a handle on the increased unease he was feeling. God, he still hurt everywhere. Guys talked about morphine like it was pennies from heaven when they'd been injured, but Mac felt worse. Even the medic gently handling his arm, trying to locate a vein that didn't look like it would be like trying to start a line in fiberglass (in the words Mac heard the man mumble under his breath) was causing a miserable ache to spread out from it.


	7. Chapter 7

Mac's breath hissed through his teeth with the pinch of the needle and the big ginger haired guy next to him - Punchy, Mac reminded himself - cursed under his breath. "Sorry, kid, that probably hurt. I blew that one. We'll get it this time."

Mac just nodded, only half hearing him, distracted by how twitchy he felt and that the urge his brain had to make his battered body get up and run full tilt boogie down the mountain was almost overwhelming. He noticed the heat from the burning debris of the camp currently felt like it was in danger of crisping his skin. Punchy's second, even less successful stick made Mac swear and pull his arm away, although, admittedly, he didn't really mean to do either.

"MacGyver," the medic said his name just a little sternly. "I really need you to be still. You're not in great shape and I think you'd be a tough stick on your best day. I could stab you less if you just quit movin' on me. If you're afraid of needles, just don't look, okay?"

"Well, I'm not a fan, but it's not on purpose," he grumbled. He wanted to explain the buzzing, too-full-of-caffeine-or-something-worse sensation because he was pretty sure it wasn't normal, but the best he could do was force his eyes, that had been squeezed shut against what was quickly becoming allover agony, open in the hopes that some visual input would make putting things into words a little easier. Instead when he opened them, for the first time he noticed Zahir lying on the floor a few feet away, large dark eyes trained on Mac's face. Or at least that was how it seemed to Mac, who was so jacked up by whatever the pain meds were doing to him that he didn't process the lifeless glaze in those eyes, just that they belonged to the person who had beat him, cut him, starved him, refused to let him sleep. His brain and body were unable to contemplate more fighting so he took a sharp turn into flight mode, digging in with his feet, trying to get himself up off the floor. Jack once again sprung into action, using the voice he perfected gentling skittish horses through most of his childhood and adolescence. "Easy there, bud. He's just as dead as he can get. We got all the bad guys. You're safe, and we're ..."

That's when Mac remembered what he needed his rescuers to know. He hurt so much now that he couldn't move much and could no longer even hold back the twitching of his limbs. He was further distracted by the sweat running off him as he alternated between shivering cold and panting heat, but he forced his eyes to stay open and look at both Delta operators earnestly so they wouldn't assume he was delirious. "Nobody's safe yet. There's another camp." He shook his head to clear it and kind of wanted to throw up but took a deep breath and tried to finish. "Probably twenty klicks from here if I was hearing those guys right. That's where they were taking all the stuff they built here to distribute it to other cells. Our tech trainee, Ricky ... Thompson I mean ... I think that's where he was in those videos. He might still be alive. They shot him though ... Everybody else ... I don't think ..."

He probably would have kept babbling, his mind working at top speed, but with the unusual hiccough of the thoughts doubling back on themselves and repeating on weird skipping loops. It was godawful and he was blaming it solely on the morphine, already vowing he'd never take any pain meds for anything again, when Jack patted his arm. He knew the kid wasn't aware of the tears on his cheeks, that he hadn't really started to process the loss of his squad with his conscious mind yet, but the moment when he would wasn't very far away. And the kid was clearly having a pretty weird reaction to the pain meds Punchy had given him, so Jack wanted to put that off for him for just a little longer. "We don't know anything for sure. We'll get 'em buddy. You did real good."

Mac closed his eyes again, lost in the million memories and ideas that his brain was forcing him to deal with all at once. He wasn't aware that he was still talking, mostly nonsensically, but he was vaguely aware of strong gentle hands holding his arm still, and, in a very disinterested detached way of the sting of the IV line finally being started successfully. He was sort of aware of one of the other guys, Wash, he thought he heard Jack say, telling the medic that they would have to use their ground transport because they couldn't get anything by air due to heavy fire by the airfield and of Jack cursing God and everybody over that fact. He knew he was on a stretcher at some point, that someone had secured him to it, including his wrists, with heavy velcro straps that were hot and uncomfortable. He complained about it in a half interested sort of way between tangents about other things that kept crowding into his attention. Jack (he remembered that Jack hadn't really left his side) said they were sorry but he'd pulled out his IV twice already. He didn't remember doing it, but since he kind of felt like peeling off his own face to get away from the feeling in his head, it sounded perfectly plausible. Besides, he trusted Jack. He didn't know why, but he did, and he wasn't someone who trusted easily.

The torment the kid was obviously fighting through filled Jack with a protective sort of anger he hadn't felt since he found out his little sister was be bullied when he was in middle school. Knowing there was another kid possibly close by, and likely in similar or worse shape, put there by the same pieces of human garbage that hurt the kid mumbling to himself something about his mother right now, made Jack's hands twitch. He wanted to meet a few more of them personally and show them why his handle was a nod to the only lawman who was good enough to get the drop on Billy the Kid. Since all he could do right now with that protective urge was sit in the back of this truck with MacGyver, he just did his best to keep the kid grounded, to keep him calm. He kept bugging Punchy about the kids condition and the last time Punchy checked on him he assured him that the shot would start to wear off in about four hours or so. Mac had been completely unaware that he'd sworn pretty loudly about it and started to cry quietly at the prospect of four more hours of feeling like he did. Jack distracted him by asking him if he wanted to be cleaned up a little and when Mac said yes, Jack used some wet wipes out of his pack and Mac actually gave him a small smile when he said he could see how the kid wound up with a nickname like Hollywood. Since that seemed to make him a little more lucid, a little less miserable, Jack started a string of gentle chatter, asking the kid about his family (apparently a mistake), whether he had a girl back home (and ribbing him a little when he said no, telling him that was a waste of that pretty face). He told Mac about his own family (also a complicated affair since he and his dad were not currently on speaking terms), about a slew of girlfriends, and then about the love of his life, who happened to be a bigger bad ass than him but looked like a Disney princess. He was starting to lose his voice when the big guy with soft green eyes everyone called Banner climbed into the back with a water bottle and a couple of yellow pills. The blond on the stretcher was as wild-eyed and miserable as Punchy said; poor kid.

Jack took the offered pills and water. "What's this?"

Banner glanced away with a self-deprecating slightly embarrassed roll of his eyes. "My airsick pills." He hated to fly, really hated it. The rest of the squad actually found it hilarious since he'd chosen to jump out of planes with the 82nd for a living before finding his way here. "Punchy said the morphine's probably worn off enough and they might help anyway if it's some kind of weird allergy. Besides, if these don't help him slow his brain down, maybe even get some sleep, nothing will. They knock my ass out if I take two and I'm twice his size."

Jack gave a grateful nod and helped Mac lift his head enough to swallow the meds with an almost greedy sip of water. His frenzied chatter slowly tapered off over the next half hour or so, and finally after several obstinate blinks, he fell asleep. Jack sagged against the wall of the truck with an exhausted sigh. He watched the young man sleep fitfully the rest of the way to the impromptu field hospital that had sprung up near Jalalabad in the wake of the recent increase in insurgent activity north of there. Because Mac seemed ready to panic a little the second he got too far away, Jack just followed the kid as he was processed through triage, cleaned and stitched up, and eventually moved to a cubicle on a drip of non-narcotic pain medication and mild sedatives that he seemed to be tolerating. Periodically, Mac would pry his eyes open just to reassure himself that the Delta operator was still there, still with him.

A day later Jack had felt okay about leaving him for a while. His CO was relatively certain that, from the information Mac provided, they'd located the camp where they believed Thompson, as well as a huge cache of IEDs, was hidden. Now that young Mac had been treated aggressively for dehydration and infection and had managed a solid meal he didn't look nearly as badly off. He looked a hell of a lot younger than his not-quite-twenty-one years all cleaned up, but regardless of his baby face, once they'd allowed him to really wake up, there was an air of competence around the kid that even Jack, who was the oldest guy on his team and who definitely had some strong mother-hening tendencies that could drive the other guys crazy, had to admit. Mac was sitting up in bed, clearly chomping at the bit to be out of it already, eating anything anyone would put in front of him, and trying his level best to convince the doc in charge, Punchy, Jack, and anyone who came within five feet of him that he felt fine and should be able to get up and dressed and go to the briefing, too, since obviously he could give them valuable information about this particular group of extremists. He was told no, in no uncertain terms, by all of them, and then threatened with more sedatives if he didn't knock it off and park his ass in bed. He looked so dejected that Punchy, who was still feeling pretty bad about the reaction the kid had to the pain meds he'd given him, talked the doc into the concession of letting the kid take a proper shower, before he left for the briefing, too.

Mac felt like a new man after showering, because even the mountains had their own share of moon dust in this place, and having the world's most necessary and blessed shave. Afterward he cheerfully asked for more food if there was any to be had as the attendant reattached his IV line to the port still in his arm. He was shoveling indeterminate food in his face, and much as he'd bitched about MRE's along with the rest of his unit, he didn't even care now so long as it was food that wasn't moldy-ass dry bread, and wasn't even really aware of it yet, but his brain, now in a well-fed, clean, and not thirsty body, was already plotting and planning.

When Jack came back to visit a few hours later, he told Mac they were rolling back out shortly to go get his buddy and do to the other camp what he had done to the one where he was being held, Mac said he was glad. Then he very calmly added that he wished they would consider letting him go with them, even in an advisory capacity; that he knew how to disarm the sorts of IEDs that cell was using because he'd watched them make them for almost two weeks. Jack had chuckled at the young man's tenacity, and was more than a little impressed at how well he seemed, given just how dinged up he had been when Jack had found him. Then he extended a hand to be shaken. "I'm sorry, Hollywood … Mac, sorry. Doc's pretty sure you got at least a few fractures, a concussion, and God knows you're underfed and still probably dehydrated." Mac had looked away, part of him not wanting to be mad at the guy who'd talked him through feeling the worst he ever had, at least since his mom died, and the other part wanting to yell at him that it was crazy to go into a Taliban camp without the EOD best equipped to disarm their bullshit. "We're the best of the best, Mac. We'll bring your buddy back and put the rest of those dirties in the ground. I promise." Mac opened his mouth to argue, and Jack, in the first of many such conversations to follow said, "I didn't save your ass two days ago to have you run it right back into the ground."

There was such a protective big brother tone in Jack's voice that Mac did his best to look contrite and grateful at the same time. He was finding he had a gift for handling his face and voice he would never have credited before joining up for a tour around the Goat Farm, and he wished Jack and his team luck, shaking his hand with genuine warmth. As soon as the Delta operator and the medic who had stepped in with him were out of earshot, Mac carefully moved out of bed and turned off the motion sensor on his IV monitor, then he carefully removed the line, grimacing and grumbling to himself that Punchy had poked him so many damned times he looked like a junkie. He did his best to ignore how his ass hung out in the breeze in the barely there hospital gown he'd been dressed in and slipped back out into the hallway near the bathroom where the staff lockers were located. He was really missing his Swiss Army knife about now, but had no idea where on the godforsaken mountain he'd been captured and detained it might be. Instead, he unwound a paperclip he'd taken off the chart at the foot of his bed and used it to pick locks until he found a set of diggies and boots that fit reasonably well. He picked his way toward the vehicles that were parked near the main buildings being prepped and fueled up for the Delta CSS rescue team to go after Thompson and take down the camp. He stealthily concealed himself in the back of a humvee. He wasn't going to let the men who had risked their lives to save him go blind into the distribution camp without an EOD tech. Mac had been visited by, and so was able to talk briefly, with their explosives expert who went by the handle Alfred (which Mac couldn't decide whether it was a reference to Alfred Nobel because of his connection to dynamite or Batman's Alfred who was just an all around badass). He'd seemed like he knew his shit, but Mac trusted his own brain and what his mentor and CO had taught him more. Aw, man. Peyna was gonna be so pissed. He wondered exactly how much trouble he could get in for flaking out of the hospital. No one, he reasoned, had given him a direct order. Then he decided that going in himself to get Ricky, and to watch out for Jack and his crew, was too important to count the cost. He wasn't going to make decisions based on personal consequences, he was going to make them based on what was right. He registered that he was feeling way too tired for a guy that had slept most of the last day away and that it was very warm and almost comfortable here in the back with everybody's gear. Shortly thereafter, Mac felt the vehicle start to move.


	8. Chapter 8

"You've always been a sneaky little shit. No wonder you wound up a spy," Jack observed with a slight grin. Seeing Mac's own involuntary smile and the twinkle of pride in his eyes when he described slipping out of that hospital made it hard to try to look disapproving all these years later. Giving Mac a mock-serious frown he said, "I may or may not still be pissed at you for risking your freshly-rescued butt, you know."

Mac grinned back. "Yeah, well, since you're still alive to be mad at me, I can live with it." He picked up one of his throw pillows and squinted at it like he was thinking. "I'm not gonna lie though; I did briefly consider putting one of these over your head when we were in the hospital after. You snore louder than anybody I've ever met and I shared a barracks with eighty other guys at one point." Jack made his most innocent face and Mac rolled his eyes. "Seriously, man, you tried to blame waking up so soon after surgery on my weirdly wired brain, but I think it was you sawing logs!"

Jack snatched the pillow from him and tucked it behind his lower back like that's the whole reason Mac had been holding it out and gave a little shake of his head. "Well, I'll just take it as a great personal kindness that you let me live. Besides, what's a little snoring? You had me around for a couple of days to keep you entertained … and away from the exit."

Mac laughed out loud. He was pretty sure Jack had actually stayed in the hospital at least a day longer than he needed to, just so he knew Mac wasn't going anywhere. "I didn't need a bodyguard to keep me there … that time, anyway. Peyna would've had my hide nailed to his door if I snuck out again. 'Oh, no one gave you a direct order, Hollywood?! Well, let me make sure you don't have that problem again. This is a direct order! Keep your skinny ass in that goddamned bed until some nice nurse wheels you out the front door! Don't you dare make me worry about my Army kids more than the one I just found out is on the damned way, son!' I thought he was gonna smack me."

Jack chuckled. "He was pretty pissed at you." Jack paused. "CO's often see their troops as their kids. Dads can get a little shouty when they're worried."

Mac raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, they can." Jack let out a very restrained, and somewhat flattered, chuckle. Mac's face grew serious again. "His kid is pretty great. I wish he'd gotten to meet her."

"Mac, buddy …" Jack began.

Mac held up a hand. "I'm not going to start beating myself up … much." After a minute Mac actually gave a quiet laugh.

"What?" Jack had never seen Mac talk about Peyna before and be in such a level mood. This was progress for sure.

"I was just thinking … you didn't even really know me yet. Hell, I wasn't even twenty-one, so there'd never even been a drunken true confession that brought us closer then … but the dressing down I got from Peyna in that hospital room was nothing compared to the one you gave me when you found me asleep in the back of that humvee."

Jack was about to point out how very much Mac had deserved that particular chewing out when both of their phones started ringing. It was Matty. Mac answered for both of them and put her on speaker. "Any word from _Irene_?"

Now that they'd designated a codename, Matty tried never to refer to her as Nikki or even Miss Carpenter. She thought the emotional distancing would be helpful to MacGyver. And based on the conflicting information she was about to unload on him, she thought that every little bit of distance between the woman he had at one time loved and the current mission couldn't hurt.

Mac did an admirable job of concealing his frustrated sigh, "Not yet."

His irritated breath was nearly inaudible, but from the slight smile Jack heard in Matty's reply, he knew she still had 'it'. "Getting a little sick of those four walls, Mac?"

Mac's face broke into the sort of sheepish grin that always reminded Jack of the very young version of MacGyver he'd first met. "Maybe a little."

"Well, then you may see this strange information as good news." Silence told her she had their complete attention. "As you know, I've been working with the CIA since _Irene_ broke into Mac's house months ago. The SAC was unaware that she was operating outside their Atlanta field office, so he opened an internal investigation as soon as we spoke." She paused again, doubting for a split second that she should've involved Mac's ops team in this. "As you know, she never returned to the office. After applying pressure in various ways, another agent was identified as engaging in off the books activity and when interrogated revealed that a member of the Agency from the D.C. office had apparently recruited Irene for another deep cover op and this other agent as her local contact to maintain her access to the CIA's resources. He gave my contact the date the operation began and, coincidentally or otherwise, it was around the time you came home to an unexpected guest."

Mac opened his mouth to say something and found he couldn't, or at least that more of him didn't want to than did. Had Nikki actually been there because of a legitimate operation? To warn him about something? Had she truly been concerned? Much less emotionally involved in the situation than MacGyver, Jack read between the lines. "So what blew holes in that story?"

Out of the corner of his eye, Jack observed Mac's almost confounded expression; his eyebrows were drawn together, and his face looked relieved on one hand and angry on the other. Jack was pretty sure from the tension in Mac's posture that the kid wasn't sure which piece of information was responsible for which emotion.

Matty continued, "The agent who had supposedly been her connection in the Agency, who was supposedly cooperating with the internal investigation, disappeared about a week ago."

"Where was he spotted," Mac asked, finally feeling his brain move past the picture of Nikki looking hurt at his brusque welcome the last time they saw each other, and joining the conversation.

" _They_ ," Matty emphasized, "were spotted outside Reston yesterday."

Jack and MacGyver both mumbled under their breath simultaneously, "Whiskey Tango Foxtrot," just like in the bad old days. Mac said out loud, " _Bethlehem_."

"We believe so, yes. What is still unclear is whether this is actually part of a legitimate operation that hasn't been disclosed or if, as we have suspected since _Irene_ contacted MacGyver, they are working to compromise or harm _Bethlehem_ for the Organization." She waited a beat, wondering if Mac would say anything. "At this point, I have offered Phoenix resources as part of an interagency operation, with our primary involvement designated as surveillance, although we may have to adjust that depending on what we find."

"When do we leave?" Mac's question was crisp, his game face already in place.

"I take it that means you are volunteering on behalf of Phoenix for the _Bethlehem_ detail?"

"Well, hell yeah we are, Matilda!" Jack answered for them; Mac's brain was already in the Beltway.

"Stop by the office ASAP. I've got Andie putting together the brief folder. Make sure your luggage can be checked. I'm booking you on a commercial flight. If _Irene_ isn't on the up and up and she's watching out for us, I don't want to tip her off with a private flight."

Matty ended the call, which was probably good because Mac had already gotten up, leaving his phone on the coffee table, heading into his bedroom to change for travel and grab his go-bag. Jack looked overly pleased with himself. "Pentagon surveillance duty, huh? This won't suck."

Mac threw him a look from his bedroom door. "She said it might not stay surveillance. You're not bringing your damned butt pillow, Jack.


	9. Chapter 9

Jack shifted uncomfortably, and even though it was dark and he had done so quietly, Mac heard him.

"I _was_ kidding. I don't actually care if you bring your pillow."

"Ha ha," Jack said drily. "Wouldn't be so bad to just hunker down here if we hadn't of flown commercial. Airlines are bad enough … and then there's the TSA. God I hate those guys, I can't even help it."

Mac chuckled somewhat ruefully. "Yeah, I've patted down terrorists for suspected WMDs and I've never been half that thorough."

They sat quietly for a minute, then over the clack of Riley's keyboard Jack heard Mac playing with something that made a muted clicking. "You know, I was kidding too on that last gig. I don't mind if you bring paperclips."

Mac stopped playing with whatever he had in his hands, fished in his pocket, and came up with a small handful of misappropriated Phoenix office supplies. Jack could just make out the shine off them from the dim light from the laptop in back. "I did. I just kind of like this cube Riley gave me. Thanks again, by the way, Ri."

Without looking up from her work, Riley answered, "No problem, Mac. My little cousin, and I've gotta take you to meet him sometime by the way because I've started thinking of him as Mini-Mac, he got one a while ago and he loves it. So does him mom. He kept getting in trouble for taking apart the teacher's clicky pens at school before."

Mac grinned. "I used to do that."

"Oh, hey, I'm in." Riley's voice dropped into what they now thought of as her _Artemis37_ voice, that she used whenever she was going deep into rogue hacker territory. She'd told them about her past after Matty brought it up during her review months ago because if it ever came out she wanted them to hear it from her first. She wanted them to know she wouldn't ever betray the team like Nikki had before her. "Damn it," she hissed. "Her camera's covered."

Riley had been trying for hours to hack into the phone where Mac had sent his last message to Nikki. Phoenix had tracked Agent Danielson (Nikki's apparent partner – or accomplice, depending on where you were leaning) to this general neighborhood, and eventually Riley had gotten them through some very sophisticated security software and had been able to pin the location of Nikki's phone to a one block radius, but unfortunately no closer. The two relative locations, coincidentally or not, matched. Everyone was quiet for a few minutes while Riley worked her magic via her laptop. "Yes! I've got her microphone. Quiet at the moment. I'll let you know when there's anything to hear." Completely in her element, Riley slipped on her headphones and got more comfortable in the back seat.

Jack glanced at Mac's profile in the relative gloom of the front seat. "You doin' okay, man?"

He heard his friend sigh before answering. "Yeah … I think so. I just want to know one way or the other at this point, you know?"

Jack just nodded, assuming Mac could see him; then, when Mac didn't go on, he prodded him with, "Not knowing who to trust is the toughest part about this work I think. Especially after everything that's gone down over the last year." Mac still didn't answer, but even in the low light Jack could see the blond head nodding. "You know you can always trust me though. I've always got your back."

This time Jack saw just the slightest flash of white teeth. "You always have."

That seemed as good an opening as any, and since there wasn't much prospect of a break anytime soon given the time, Jack made an attempt at continuing their conversation from Mac's place. "Sorry we didn't get to just finish our talk back home." Mac stayed quiet. "But we got nothin' but time on our hands at the moment if …"

"Jack!" Mac was quiet but the sharpness in his voice didn't need volume. "I don't want to talk about that right now." He tipped his chin toward the back seat in a movement that couldn't be missed even in the dark.

Jack waved a hand. "Oh, Ri's too busy listenin' in on whatever your crazy ex might get up to, man. Right, Ri?"

There was no answer other than a few quiet key strokes.

Mac sighed again and leaned back in his seat. "I mean … I guess …"


	10. Chapter 10

"Hey Garret, you know you ain't supposed to pack unauthorized explosives shit. That's Alfred's job," Wash called with a hint of amusement, picturing the look on Dalton's face already.

"What the hell?" Jack mumbled as he went around the back of their transport to see what it was that Wash thought was funny about his gear. "Son of a bitch!" he snapped, a good deal louder than he'd meant to or was wise, since they were approaching what they knew to be enemy territory.

Passed out and wedged behind their personal gear was one unexpected EOD tech in ACUs that were obviously not his given how baggy they were. The black eye that hadn't looked too bad when Jack had last seen him safe in a hospital bed now looked deeply purple against the overall pallor of the rest of his face. "Punchy!" he shouted. The medic materialized at his size. "What the hell do you make of this?"

The kid started to stir and Punchy couldn't help but chuckle, both at the furious protective expression on Dalton's face and at MacGyver's stubborn reckless tenacity. "Looks to me like they gave him the sedative like we said they oughta, and he managed to get his ass outta bed and stow away anyway."

Jack paced a few steps away and then back again. He didn't think he'd ever been more furious with another human being in his entire life. Not this kind of anger anyway; it was hot and fierce and as much directed at himself for failing to keep the kid safe at least long enough for him to really heal up as it was at the kid for making such a stupid move because he thought he knew better than everybody else. Jack shook the sleeping tech, probably a little harder than he should've and barked, "Hey, Houdini! Wake your sorry ass up!" The kid groaned and started to sit up, bleary eyed, but blinking with a hint of fear at the repercussions of what he'd done. "Angus MacGyver! On your feet, Soldier!"

Deeply ingrained training cleared the cobwebs from Mac's head and he climbed out of the vehicle as fast as he could and stood at attention, a more painful process than he'd expected. The other Deltas had seen the flash in Dalton's eyes and put some distance between themselves and his wrath, instead focusing getting things together for heading into the nearby encampment.

"Yes, sir!"

Jack got extremely close to Mac's face and stared right into his eyes. To his credit, Mac didn't look away even a little. "What the hell were you thinking?" Jack didn't even take a breath to let the kid try to answer. "Not a goddamned thing, that's what. I swear if you don't get yourself and the rest of us all killed out here with this shit, I ought to have you brought up on charges for misuse of government property. Or do you need reminding that that's what you are, _PFC_ MacGyver?" He emphasized the lowly nature of the rank with careful verbal precision. He was satisfied when he saw Mac swallow hard; the seriousness of what he'd done truly settling in for the first time. "That guy that told you to stay in bed was a captain and in case you need a fresh lesson in what that means, he outranks your skinny ass by a helluva lot. I'm thinkin' disobeying a direct order should go on the list of charges, too, boy!"

Mac swallowed hard again, but his back straightened just a little further. "Permission to speak, sir?" he asked tightly.

Jack gave him a hard look and just tipped his chin in the affirmative.

"Nobody gave me an order, sir," he said quietly.

"What the hell ..?" Jack was almost surprised into laughing. "What sorta bullshit are you ..?" He trailed off, at a loss.

"Sir, nobody ordered me not to lay down in the back of this humvee." He could see what almost passed for amusement in Jack's eyes, despite his otherwise stern expression so he went on. "Captain Michaels said to get some rest. And you said the same thing; that if I couldn't do it on my own just because I was in a hospital somebody should dope me and I'd be able to sleep anywhere. You said, 'Get some rest Hollywood. I'll see you soon.' That's all, sir. I got some rest just like you all said, sir. Right here in the back of the truck. Because somebody did give me something, I guess. I just didn't realize it until I lay down on your gear, sir." Mac's eyes flicked away from Jack's face for half of an uncertain second. He decided that a little contriteness would probably go a long way right now. "I may have been being pedantic, sir."

"Ped – what?" Jack sighed. "You know what? Never mind. Since you're here, I'll use you. I can't say your CO won't tan your hide when we get back though."

Mac concealed the smile of satisfaction his face wanted to split into. "Yes, sir."

Jack tipped him a grin then and patted him on the shoulder, missing the slight wince that movement elicited. "Quit callin' me sir now, you little shit. Let's get you geared up."


	11. Chapter 11

Jack nearly had another meltdown when Mac informed him that he wasn't going to take one of his guns, that he didn't use them. "You are a _soldier_." He punctuated every word. "What the hell do you mean you don't use guns? How the hell did you make it through Basic?"

Mac looked away for a second, then his brow took on some stubborn lines that Jack would become all too familiar with in the years to come. "Well, I mean, I qualified and everything, but my job doesn't require it so I don't. If it had I wouldn't have joined up. That's why I picked the Army. They guaranteed me my MOS."

Jack's eyes grew wide with irritation, but Punchy stepped in and pointed out that he knew other tech guys who didn't carry and an awful lot of medical personnel fell into the 'no guns' camp. "Besides," Punchy reasoned, "after that pretty fireworks display on the other side of the mountain, we know Hollywood can take care of himself without one, Garret."

Jack wasn't happy, but decided to back off, since they didn't have time for this sort of argument. Orders were to get in and out as fast as possible, with Private Thompson if he was still alive, and if they could capture any of the insurgents the General wouldn't mind that too much either. He was stuffing things somewhat angrily into a rucksack for Mac; nothing heavy since he thought the kid looked like he'd pass out if he tried any heavy lifting, especially while moving fast, but enough so that if they got separated he had food, water, and other basic survival gear. Mac shifted from foot to foot, which Jack interpreted as nervousness, but was really just indicative of a MacGyver that felt more like himself than he had in weeks, although he would admit to some anxiety over his lost Swiss Army knife. He cleared his throat. "I … um … I hate to ask, but do any of you have a pocket knife I could …"

Jack's head snapped around, "A what now?"

Strangely, Mac thought Jack might understand his almost superstitious attachment to this particular object. "I had my grandfather's Swiss Army knife, belonged to my great-grandfather originally, I guess … I've gotten out of a lot of tight spots over here with it but … I used to keep it in my boot. Zahir's people must've taken it … It's my thing … like your M9 is your thing."

"What the Sam Hill do you use it for?"

"I improvise," Mac grinned.

Part of Jack wanted to try to convince Mac to take a _'real'_ weapon, but the other part had seen the almost hunted look in the kid's eyes when he said he'd qualified with firearms in Basic, like even firing at targets had cost him something he couldn't get back easily. Instead of arguing anymore, Jack pulled a Leatherman out of one of his thigh pockets and handed it to Mac. "I'd hate to see anybody keep you from improvising if that's what you were up to back when we found ya."

Mac immediately opened the tool just to familiarize himself with what it had available, how it felt, and how quickly and efficiently he could get at all its components. He grinned, "Thanks Jack!"

As they moved out Jack told Mac in no uncertain terms to stay behind the guys with the guns. Mac was close to mounting an argument, when Jack added, "That was an order, kid."

As soon as everyone was geared up the small team moved carefully the short distance up the steepest approach, since that was usually the least defended in these encampments. Mac wanted to just sprint to the top to get to Thompson and rescue him from the depths of whatever horrors this group of evil men had sunk him into (refusing to admit even to himself that his bunkmate and battle buddy, the barely eighteen Ricky Thompson, could already be dead). And he knew his thinking was still slightly clouded from the concussion he didn't really want to admit he could feel the effects of. But, Mac did his level best to follow Jack's order. The distance from the main tactical grouping allowed for keener overall observation. They were almost to the top when Mac heard a distinct, sickening click.

"Don't move!" he hissed as loud as he dared.

Everyone immediately stilled. "What's up, Hollywood?" Wash whispered.

"Somebody just stepped on a Betty."

"Jesus," he heard Jack mutter. "You sure?"

Alfred answered for him. "S-mines make a very identifiable sound, Garret. Besides, if it was something else, we'd already be in pieces."

Mac nodded, forgetting it was dark and no one could see. He was pretty sure it hadn't been him but he inspected the ground by his own feet slowly and carefully. "I'm clear," he said, before moving methodically from man to man, checking for evidence of the bomb mostly with his hands, since his eyes weren't much good in the velvet dark out here in the middle of nowhere. "Shit," he mumbled, as he pushed dirt away from Alfred's left foot. "Don't even breath, man."

"Ah, hell," Alfred whispered nervously. Bouncing Bettys were tricky as hell, even in training scenarios, say nothing about on the side of a mountain in the seventh layer of hell, with some big dude standing on top, and God knew what modifications. He didn't blame the other guys one bit for moving away from the two of them, Mac crouched at his feet and him standing still as a statue picturing the death he was hoping would never be accurately relayed to his wife or parents. He didn't want to damage the kid's confidence, but he'd seen disarming one of these go badly more than once, and he said so. He was ready to tell the kid to just back off and that he'd try to disarm it himself.

Mac grinned up at him. He could see the kid's white smile even in the darkness. "Yeah, well, maybe God knows what they did to it, but fortunately for us, so do I. I watched those sonsabitches mod at least a dozen of these the last couple days." He paused, trying to see his own hands in the blackness. "Once I deactivate the igniter on this one, we'll be all set. They over packed 'em all, so they can't bury them completely and still expect the pressure plate to work. They spray painted the tops orange so they wouldn't blow their own stupid asses up planting them. We'll just need to risk a tactical flashlight from here. Not ideal, but a hell of a lot better than winding up disintegrated from the belt up."

He talked about the surety of disarming the mine with calm confidence while he worked. Even though he was kneeling over it and would die just as surely as Alfred if he failed, Al could tell the kid's hands weren't even shaky. That filled his fellow explosives expert with a certainty that they'd get out of this. It did make him a little overly focused on the sweat dripping down his back, but Mac was pleased to notice the man was clearly not quite as interested in what was going on down by his feet, because the minute tremors coursing through his body from nerves subsided. After a few quiet minutes that drew out into psychological hours, Mac tapped Alfred's leg with his free hand, and Alfred shifted carefully.

"Clear," Mac said, and got to his feet, not quite able to hide the stiffness in his bruised body, as he groaned quietly. Fortunately, they didn't have much further to go.

They stood off to the side of the mouth of yet another cave for a moment, letting their eyes adjust to the increased light, grateful for the growling of the generator providing it, since it covered up even the louder sounds of their approach. The team was using a set of hand signals that was unfamiliar to Mac, so he was grateful when Jack stepped close and filled him in with a quick whispered explanation. He looked Mac very pointedly in the eye and said firmly, "You stay outside, right here."

"No! I'm coming with you!" he whispered hotly.

Jack stepped closer, quietly incensed. "Do I _really_ need to say the word _'order'_ to you again, boy?" Mac saw the man's anger and his eyes flicked away from the Delta's face, and he started unconsciously chewing the inside of his cheek. "Look, Mac, I know you want to get these guys …"

"I want to get Thompson," he whispered, not with defiance now, but almost as a plea.

Jack squinted at him in the dimness outside the cave. "Okay." He took a small gun out of his boot and held it out to MacGyver. "But you're taking this. No arguments."

Mac looked at the weapon like it might be a venomous animal with an inclination to bite, but swallowed hard and took it from Jack, sliding it into his belt in the small of his back. Then he nodded, indicating that he would follow Jack's lead.

"Odds are good if your boy is still alive, he'll be toward the back. You wait, Hollywood. You count to a hundred. Slow. Let us clear the entrance. Then you can follow."

Jack made an abrupt motion with one hand and the rest of the team all slithered into deadly precise motion, working as one to become the perfect predator to an evil wilderness beast.

Once they were in the cave, Mac forgot he was supposed to be counting because things started going badly very quickly.


	12. Chapter 12

At that moment Riley kicked the backs of their seats. They'd been talking loudly enough to hear through her headphones. Mac paled a little at the thought. "Shhh. I think I've got some movement."

Mac threw Jack a nearly panicked look, which his friend picked up even in the darkened van.

"Oh, hey, Ri, sorry," Jack said quickly, "we we're, uh …"

"Shhh," she repeated. "I'm trying to hear over all your mumbling …"

Mac relaxed slightly. She hadn't heard them. "Put it on speaker," he suggested.

Riley paused. "Um … Hang on … Oh, um … never mind … It's nothing important," she finished awkwardly.

"Oh." Jack glanced at his partner, who he saw stiffen slightly, then relax, tilting his head to look deliberately out the window.

Mac could feel them both looking at him. He took a long slow breath, knowing his face was warming, and more than a little glad they were sitting in the relative darkness. He gave a sniff that was half laugh, half discomfort, wanting to reassure them as well as himself that this was an entirely expected development. Not like he'd been waiting in the wings for Nikki to prove she was one of the good guys anyway, he thought. "Guys, it's fine. I'm fine." He waited a beat. "You can probably spare yourself listening in for a while, Ri."

She answered by clearing her throat.

Mac shrugged, and felt himself blushing, which made him feel more self-conscious even though he knew they couldn't see him. "Like at least a half hour, maybe more." He dragged his hands over his too-warm face and through his hair. "Almost definitely more."

More to break the tension than anything else, Riley murmured, "Damn, son," under her breath. As she'd hoped, she heard him laugh quietly. She gratefully pulled off her headphones, keeping an eye on her visual display for any indication that the sounds being picked up from Nikki's mic had normalized into anything resembling conversation. To change the subject, Riley ventured, "What were you guys yammering about while I was doing all the work?"

"Old times," Jack filled in quickly. He didn't want Mac pulling inside himself like he was so often wont to do; his comment managed to sound like they'd just been hashing over the evolution of their tastes in beer rather than the moments in combat that had bound them together.

Mac felt a swell of affection for Jack, for the trust he was able to place in the man, and was struck by something Marissa had said to him recently. "Your ability to compartmentalize can be a real asset, Mac. In the middle of the things you can be called on to do by Phoenix, being able to close down your emotions and shut yourself off from all but your rational mind can even save your life. But if you're walled off from the people closest to you … the damage that can do to who you really are, to what your life can and should be, is as dangerous as any bullet or bomb."

"Afghanistan," he said plainly. He heard Jack's breath catch at his admission. "We were talking about when we met, sort of." Jack let out a breath that was almost a low whistle and he felt the man reach out in the dark to pat his arm and then move away to give him space. Mac could picture the look of concerned, slightly pleased, disbelief lining Jack's face and it made him smile just a little. "I've never been able to remember everything that happened over those couple of days. I talked to my therapist. Jack's been trying to help … There've been dreams …"

Riley bit her lip. She'd shared a surveillance van, or exfil transport, or even mission home base with them, not to mention crashed on carious couches on an as needed basis, to know both her friends were plagued with terrible dreams, nightmares, even night terrors sometimes. She'd had her own share over the last few months since The Organization had infiltrated Phoenix. None of them spoke of it much, although all of them worked with a therapist who told them they should, especially with each other. Mac never had. Riley cleared her throat again. "Sorry I interrupted you … for … you know …"

This time Mac smiled warmly. "Don't apologize for being good at your job, Riley. Or for anything else … I guess it's about time you knew some of our stuff anyway. You told us about Artemis. We should tell you about our pasts too." He paused, glancing at Jack, whose profile he could just make out. "Unless I did or said something totally humiliating that I've completely forgotten."

Jack grinned, pleased for more reasons than you could name at the moment. "Unless you count savin' my ass and engaging in your usual thrilling heroics humiliating …"

Mac felt himself grin for a moment, and then felt it fade as he remembered where their conversation had been heading. He wasn't actually sure Riley should hear the next bit of the story, but if Jack was okay with it, something told him he should be too.

"So we were in the mountains of Afghanistan trying to rescue a guy from my Unit, from my squad …" He felt himself starting to babble and slowed down with a careful breath. "The guy's name was Ricky Thompson and he was my bunkmate on base, and my battle buddy in the field. He was also just barely eighteen and my trainee. I felt really responsible for him on top of liking the hell out of him. He was being held by a small terrorist cell deep in Taliban territory …"

Jack interrupted, "And this genius was still supposed to be in the hospital 'cause he'd been held by the same assholes for almost two weeks. But he snuck out and muddied up my whole plan …"

Riley gasped and Mac wished fervently that Jack had left that part out, but began speaking again to once again take the focus of his own part in the story. "Jack told me to count to a hundred before I followed him and his guys into the cave we thought Ricky might be, along with a ton, literally a ton, of IEDs and components. I was doing what he told me until it seemed like everything blew up at once. I just ran in without thinking. It was all fire, and smoke, and shouting, and it was all so fresh for me, so raw, I sort of wanted to just curl up on the floor, but then I heard a gunshot close by, and a yell that had to be Jack's. I don't know what really made me do it, we'd only known each other two days at that point and I'd slept through a lot of it, but I dove right in to try to find him."


	13. Chapter 13

Mac hadn't thought much about what he was going to find when he pushed into the wall of scorching smoke, but after less than a second in the blinding chaos he realized he was going to have to do something about his innate impulsivity if he wanted to stay alive. The heat and speed with which the fire was spreading suggested thermite or some sort of similar compound as the source of the blaze. The metallic, almost blood-like, smell confirmed it. Mac was thinking that if any of the various crates visible through the smoke contained explosives, this cave was going to get way too exciting way too fast. At that moment, he was proven right by an explosion about ten feet away. Something hit the wall near his face and a chunk of debris cut his cheek just under his already-blackened eye. He dropped down to the floor, below the smoke and out of the way of flying rocks, shrapnel, and the occasional bullet. If he was right and Jack was hit, the floor was where he was going to find him anyway.

He belly crawled along slowly because, even low, the smoke was becoming impossibly thick. Between the physical demands of moving that way and the occasional body-wracking cough brought on by the hot dense air, Mac was starting to be very aware of his bruised and fractured ribs and his head was pounding again. He was mentally conceding that maybe sneaking out of the hospital hadn't been his best idea when he put his hand into an icy puddle of water. When his other hand moved forward through the smoke, it connected with a motionless leg. It wasn't Jack, who had been dressed all in black, and it wasn't one of the Taliban since it was clad in dirty, ripped digital camouflage. It had to be Thompson. All thoughts of his own ordeal, his own discomfort immediately pushed down into the back of his mind, Mac got as close as he could to confirm the identity of the form on the floor in front of him. It was definitely Ricky. His fingers went to the younger man's wrist. There was a pulse. Then his hands strayed to the kid's chest, finding the shirt soaked. He wasn't breathing. Mac began the resuscitate his friend, acting more on the instincts of deeply ingrained training than any cool measured thinking that he might be credited with later. After less than a minute, the kid coughed out a bunch of water and roused himself to tenuous consciousness, weakly trying to get away from whoever had their hands on him.

"Rick … Ricky … chill … It's me; it's Mac."

Despite the chaos, explosions and gunshots peppering the background over the roar of the flames, Ricky knew without a doubt that he was hearing the voice of Angus MacGyver. His breath was still coming in irregular agonized gasps, but knowing it would only make it worse didn't stop the relieved sobs from escaping. "I thought you were dead … I thought I was dead … I thought we were in hell …"

"No way, man. Alive and well, the both of us. We're gonna get out of here." He squeezed the kid's hand, more than a little worried that Thompson hadn't even tried to sit up, just kind of lay there on his side, right where Mac had rolled him when he started coughing, but he felt a solid squeeze in return, so he probably didn't need to be panicking that he'd moved someone with a spinal injury. "Punchy!" he yelled. Then he started talking, just to reassure Ricky before the medic got there. "This guy Punchy is a medic, part of the team that came after me, the whole bunch of them are really good guys, gonna help us get back to base, buddy, and …"

"Mac, you're freaking out. You talk a lot when you're freaking out." Now Ricky started trying to sit up. Mac thought that he should try to stop him, but he was too busy realizing that Rick was right; he was losing it just a little. And it was the kid's shirt, still wet from what they'd been doing to him when the raid started, that was causing it.

"I'm okay, buddy," Mac reassured him, and after a few deep breaths, it almost wasn't a lie. Punchy arrived a few seconds later and began quickly questioning and examining Thompson. Mac stayed to hear the answers for himself and to be sure Ricky was okay being left with the medic. He asked if anyone had seen Jack and was met with just a sharp head shake.

Then Punchy said, "One of the Terrys took off. Other guys were in pursuit last I saw when I heard you yell. Didn't see Garret, but that doesn't mean much; can't see shit in here anyway." Another loud explosion from a short distance off shook the whole cave and some debris fell around them. "You think you can walk with my help, Private?" he asked Thompson.

Ricky was already slinging an arm over the medic's shoulder. He didn't really know if he could or not, but if Mac was here, bruised and beaten up just to get him out, no way was he not going to try. "Yeah, like I said, they stopped the bleeding real fast with a road flare so leg's already kinda healing up."

Another explosion rocked the cave and a large piece of the ceiling landed a few feet away from where the three of them were crouched on the floor. Punchy started hauling Thompson to his feet, as he said, "Let's get out of here." Mac started to obey when he heard, what was to him unmistakably, Jack's voice, cussing up a storm through the cacophony. He took off into the smoke. Punchy yelled, "Goddamn it MacGyver, that was an order! You hear me? It was an … you know what I give up." He was more than half talking to himself as he helped Thompson limp out of the cave, hopefully to a place of relative safety where he could begin treating him more aggressively. "If he doesn't just die in there I oughta give him morphine again so he's good and awake for the holy ass chewing he's gonna get all the way back to base …"

"You've got morphine?" Ricky asked hopefully and Punchy almost had to chuckle.

Less than ten yards away, which might as well have been ten miles for all that could be seen and heard, Mac tripped over something, and the pained yell that he heard as he fell told him he'd found Jack. Mac was quickly on his hands and knees, "Jack, are you okay? Are you hit?"

"Ummmhmmm," was the mumbled reply.

"Where?"

Jack was propped up against what, through the smoke, looked like a desk. "Leg. Through and through. It's bleedin' bad."

Mac fought his way through another miserable coughing fit and tried to get close enough to assess the damage. Despite Jack's own belt cinched tight around the wound (which probably accounted for the swearing that had tipped Mac to his location), it was still bleeding freely. It was bright red, too. _Damn it all_ , Mac cursed internally. That meant an artery most likely. He shouted for Punchy again, but heard nothing. Probably outside with Ricky already, expecting the rest of his team to do what they did and look out for themselves, and Mac wasn't sure he could find Jack again if he went out to get the medic. So it would be up to Mac. He didn't see much point in lying to the Delta, who had to know what he was looking at or he wouldn't have tried to apply a tourniquet. "I think it got an artery, Jack."

"Oh yeah. Pretty sure it did. And I don't think I hit the sonofabitch when he was runnin' off either. Damn shame I couldn't take him with me."

The forced bravado in Jack's voice made Mac like him even more. It was the sort of tone he'd taken, or at least tried to take, with Zahir and his men. "You're not going anywhere, Jack. I'm pretty sure it's just a nick." He thought hard for a second, looking around, trying to think of how he could use the environment to his advantage. Then Ricky's words came back to him. "They used a flare on Ricky. I'll see if I can find another one."

Mac didn't even process that his statement would be without context for Jack, just started off into the smoke to search around the desk. He tripped again a moment later and Jack heard a splash, followed by Mac's almost panicked gasp, and the scrambling, thumping, and splashing of the kid climbing back out of whatever held the water he'd fallen into, a washtub by the sounds. They'd been drowning someone as torture, and based on Mac's reaction to coming into contact with the water, that had happened to him recently as well. He didn't have time to think much about it before Mac was back by his side looking miserable and at a loss. "Nothing," he said apologetically. "Punchy!" he tried yelling again, but with the same result. Jack almost felt worse about the look on Mac's face than he did about the prospect of dying here on this dirt floor. He was about to say something, when even through the haze of the smoke, Jack saw the kid's eyes light up. "Your gun!"

Mac looked like he'd just found a winning lottery ticket in his pocket. He took the small sidearm out of his belt and emptied the bullets onto the ground. He counted them and looked like he was doing some mental math. Jack couldn't be sure, but the kid's eyes said the person in charge of the blackboard in his mind even erased and started over a couple of times. Then, Mac pulled out the Leatherman Jack had given him and flipped open the knife. He started to cut away Jack's pant leg and the confused look Jack was giving him made him decide it would be better if he explained what he was doing as he went. "We're not close enough to help for a tourniquet to do you much good. Cauterization is about the only way to keep you from bleeding out. But we don't have anything. Maybe there's another flare around here somewhere, maybe not, but we don't really have time to look." Mac put away the knife and took out the pliers on the multi-tool. He began unscrewing the primers and pins and pouring out the powder. Jack didn't want to interrupt because talking seemed to be helping the kid focus. "I've heard you can use gunpowder to seal a wound. Based on the temperature it burns at, as long as it doesn't stay in the wound long enough to get too wet from the blood, it should work ... They do it in the movies all the time."

He paused and Jack could sense that he was doubting himself. Neither of them could afford that at the moment. "Like Rambo," Jack offered.

Mac flashed a nervous grin. "Yeah … I'd say you've got nothing to lose, but whether it works or not, it's gonna hurt. A lot." Jack just nodded for Mac to go ahead, setting his teeth against any sound he might want to make. "Okay … Okay …" Mac was clearly psyching himself up to do something he didn't want to do. He was finally ready to tip the powder into the two wounds but stopped. If he'd had a free hand, his expression said he would have smacked himself in the forehead with it. "Wait. Do you have a lighter?"

Grimacing at the movement, and all too aware of the fresh gout of blood the subtle shift in position caused, Jack fished a lighter out of the back pocket of his pants. "Don't tell Alfred. We have a bet about which one of us would go back to smokin' first. I lost, but he doesn't know it yet."

Mac took it from him, wishing his hand wasn't shaking and hoping Jack didn't notice. The way Jack was talking, nothing bad was happening, or would happen, to either of them. Mac knew about that skill, but when he did it himself it always felt like a lie; when he heard Jack do it, it felt like, not just truth, but a fundamental law of the universe. Mac applied the powder a moment later, and Jack gasped loudly and then moaned quietly, squeezing his eyes shut. When Mac lit the powder a second later and it flared into light with a bright burst, Jack lost all composure and screamed; there was no other word for it. Mac lost track of how desperately they needed to get out of there, forgot all about his own aches and pains, and just fumbled a repeated apology several times as Jack got his breathing back under control. After a minute, both men were back in the moment, with Jack squinting for a better look at his leg and Mac scrutinizing his work, hoping against hope that it had been worth what it cost Jack. It appeared to be working. Then he removed the belt to see how the seal held up. Satisfied that it had stopped the bleeding almost completely, Mac told Jack that he would probably live long enough to get him court-martialed and Jack said since he wasn't gonna die in this shit hole all was forgiven, or maybe they'd go to military prison together since Jack had more or less let him tag along. Mac helped Jack get up and argued until he let Mac help him walk. Mac wouldn't admit that helping hurt as much as Jack had been worried it would. When they got outside, the cool, smoke-free air was like heaven. Now that Jack could see Mac properly, could see how pale and pinched his face was, how much difficulty he was having moving, so he stood up and limped along under his own power. He was pretty sure he could talk Mac out of any kind of trouble he might be in at the moment, especially since he'd made the decision to tag along under the influence of medication he didn't know he'd been given at the time, but he was going to make his help contingent upon Mac spending as much time in the base hospital as the most conservative doc Jack could find recommended.

They rejoined the group a short distance away from the cave. Thompson was on a portable stretcher, on an IV drip, and pretty clearly mellowed out on the good drugs because he gave Mac a dopey grin as they approached. Punchy moved away from the kid quickly to check Jack over, but Jack waved him off. "I want a status report first, Punchy. Then, by God, I want you to dope me up until I forget I've got a damned leg."

Mac didn't catch the report, because he was too focused on seeing how Ricky was doing. If he had been listening he would have known that Ricky's drug-addled trauma-fueled rambling was just that, but while Mac had a brain that could go in a thousand directions at once, when it was truly focused on something, the whole rest of the world just fell away. "'M glad you're 'kay, Mac. Deeds said they killed you, and Sarge even cried. But I tole' 'em those dirty …"

Mac's eyes went wide as Ricky's started to drift closed. "What do you mean? Were there other guys with you here?"

"Sure … the whole time … Never leave a man behind …" Then he drifted out.

Mac was on his feet, ready to run back up the hill almost immediately, heedless of the fact that they had no idea where the rest of the mines were buried, that one of Zahir's men was unaccounted for, that there was the welcome sound of a distinctly American helicopter approaching in the distance. All he was thinking about was that Ricky thought other members of their squad might still be alive. He wouldn't leave anyone in a place like that for anything. Even injured Jack caught up with Mac before he'd gotten ten feet. The kid's injuries were starting to really catch up with him. "Kid, where do you think you're going?"

Mac tried to pull away from Jack. "Ricky thinks some of the other guys …"

Jack shook his head, "I'm sorry kid, but nobody made it. I didn't want to tell you before, but everybody else in your party that day was KIA. No reason for you to go back in there, man." His voice was quiet, laced with regret.

"No, I don't believe it." Mac stubbornly pulled away, successfully this time. Then the loss registered in his eyes, but still he shook his head. "I've got to be sure. I'll never forgive myself if I don't check. Go let Punchy take a look at your leg."

Mac started up the hill. Jack limped next to him for a couple of steps, grimacing and swearing under his breath about stubborn geniuses who should have been doped into a coma back in Jalalabad. Mac turned and glared at him. "This place could go up any second. You can barely walk. Go see the damned medic."

"You did somethin' stupid and followed me and I swear to God I'm gonna spend the rest of my life making sure you never do anything dumb without me again just to teach you a lesson. So, if you go back in there and you go kaboom, I go kaboom, too. _Capiche_?"

Mac just sighed and resigned himself to having Jack follow, but when the hill got steeper, Jack's leg buckled and he went down on one knee. Mac took it as an opportunity to take off running at top speed toward the cave, knowing it was probably a futile effort, but slightly desperate to prove Jack wrong about the fate of his squad after the dizzying moment of hope Ricky's words had given him. He thought he saw someone move in the flames as he approached the mouth of the cave, but before he could process whether it was an illusion of shadows, or even question what he was doing, a huge explosion tore through the side of the mountain, scattering debris, burning detritus, and smoldering dirt and stone in all directions. Mac was thrown ten feet or better. The pain was so great his vision was blackening around the edges and he thought gratefully that he was passing out, but he didn't, just hovered there on the edges of it, feeling a burning in his chest that he wanted more than anything to stop. He wasn't aware that he was clawing at the source of the pain until he felt Jack pulling his hand away.

"Holy hell kid, quit movin'." Jack's voice sounded tight with pain. Mac wanted to ask after him, but couldn't get himself to talk; a sense of dread overwhelmed him as he took in his own injuries. Jack saw the look on the kid's face and felt him struggling to get his right hand free from Jack's gentle grasp. He tried to tell him what was happening in hopes it would calm Mac down. "Got a nice souvenir almost in your chest, bud. Right by your shoulder. Can't tell how deep. You must think you're Iron Man or somethin' … Medic!"

Mac forced himself to speak now. "Jack … Jack … I can't feel my arm … Like nothing … I can't move it. Whatever hit me must've severed the nerve. The brachial plexus. That can result in the complete loss of use of …" Jack could hear the panic that underscored the coldly rational self-assessment of his injury.

"Slow your roll, Mac. Let's leave diagnosing to the docs. Save your brain for bombs okay, kiddo?"

Jack dragged Mac as far away from the cave as he could and was quickly joined by Wash. They got him back near where they had been before Mac had recklessly run back toward danger. The medic arrived then and Mac was aware of the flurry of activity that surrounded emergency medical attention, but wasn't giving it much thought. He was mostly concerned that he couldn't move his left arm and that Jack wouldn't let him move his right again. "Mac," Punchy said quietly, to get his full attention. "Stop trying to pull that piece of metal out. I know it hurts like hell, but it's near an artery. I don't think it's cut, but we're gonna let a surgeon do the work, buddy."

"I can't move it; I can't feel it, I …"

"Can't feel it or it just hurts too much to feel anything else?"

Mac just shook his head. He didn't know, and everything about the last two weeks was crowding his brain for attention, not to mention scenes from his past that he thought he'd buried long ago. And he couldn't shut it off like he usually could. That hurt more than anything that was happening to his body at the moment. As soon as the kid was strapped securely to the portable stretcher, Jack sat down hard on the ground next to him, resting his hand gently on his arm, not wanting to move away or be treated until Mac was either out cold or at least a little calmer. The kid looked like he wanted to squirm as Punchy tried to find a good place to start an IV again and was almost sheepish when the medic mumbled about all the blown out veins and bruises. "I didn't mean to pull them out, I … Hey, ow!"

"Sorry," Punchy said, truly sounding it as he taped things down. "Back of the hand always hurts, but it's kinda what I've got left."

Suddenly Mac laughed, and Jack gave him a surprised raise of his eyebrows. "Jeez, you're fast Punchy. Didn't even see you slip him any happy juice yet."

"I didn't."

Mac shook his head, the feeling of relief overwhelming his pain for a moment. "That hurt."

Punchy and Jack continued to look confused. Punchy said, "Yeah, like I said, that spot's no fun, but it's a pretty good vein, for you anyway."

"No ... I mean I can feel my hand. I can move it too. I was just freaking out a minute ago."

Punchy secured his wrist with a piece of Velcro just to be sure. "Well, that's great, Mac. Just don't go moving it a whole lot. You pull that one out and the options get less and less pleasant, buddy."

Mac nodded, but, holy hell, he hurt. The pervasiveness of the pain made it difficult to even default to drawing inside his mind, a coping mechanism he'd been practicing since he was about five when his mother got sick enough that he knew she wasn't going to recover. He heard the helicopter landing close by and the sound of more personnel approaching. He blinked and realized Punchy was about to inject something into his IV. "Hey, please don't give me that stuff again … I know it's supposed to help, but it didn't, it made everything worse, and I couldn't think, and …"

Punchy ignored him for a moment, then patted his free hand. "It's not morphine. It's the same stuff Captain Michaels gave you at the hospital, kid."

Mac frowned, feeling drowsy already, and appreciating that the white hot pain was beginning to fade to a more tolerable fiery yellow. "So that's just part of your kit anyway?"

"Nope."

"Well, then how come ..?"

Punchy gave him a little grin, knowing he was about to get himself in trouble with Dalton. "For one thing, I was born at night, but not last night, MacGyver; and for another I usually sit in the back of the transport. We were idling for a while. You might think you stayed awake back there until we rolled out, but … you talk in your sleep, kid."

Mac's eyes slipped closed to the sounds of Jack chewing out Punchy for not telling the team Mac was in the back of the truck to begin with and Punchy replying only with an offer of some pain meds before he took a good look at his leg and to make transport easier. Jack was more worried about being ready if Mac needed him. "I don't need anything, Punchy. I'm fine."

"You're as bad as the kid, Garret. Now, hold still."

"I said I don't ... Ow!" Then a pause. "Oh, hey, that's a lot better, man. Thanks. You're the best."

Mac didn't remember anything else until he woke up to Jack's quiet voice at the base hospital in Bagram.


	14. Chapter 14

"You really don't remember any of the flight?" Jack asked, squinting at him in the dimly lit vehicle.

Mac shrugged. "No. I slept through it … Didn't I?"

Jack shook his head. Maybe Mac wasn't ready to hear the story of his drugged-out true confessions right now. He was on edge, and all this honesty about the past was still pretty new. "Nah, but we were both pretty doped up. I probably don't remember it much better than you do anyway."

Both Mac and Riley felt the lie of it, but Riley wasn't about to say anything, thinking only that including her in the conversation at all showed a level of trust that she wouldn't have previously thought possible. They all trusted each other with their lives, but telling these sorts of stories was trusting someone with your spirit, knowing it was fragile and could break. Mac stayed quiet, because he wasn't any more sure than Jack that he was ready to hear what he might have said. The trio was saved from any more awkward silence by Riley shushing them and putting her headphones back on.

"I've got movement on the mic. That was a door." They heard rapid typing for a moment and then she said, "I'm tapping into the satellite Phoenix is using to monitor our location to see if I can pinpoint any activity."

"Don't bother," Mac said, strain apparent in his voice. "That's Nikki."

He pointed up the street to a woman walking briskly down the sidewalk in the distant light of the streetlamps, about a block away from the dark side street they were parked on. Jack and Riley could see a woman's form moving up the street with sure strides, wearing an almost stereotypical long coat and casting less than relaxed glances over her shoulder toward the house she had just slipped out of.

"Are you sure, Mac," Riley began. "Looks to me like that lady has long dark hair … and she looks taller than …"

"It's her." Mac's certainty made Riley look closer.

At the end of the street, almost like it had been rehearsed, a grey sedan pulled up to the corner. The woman's pace quickened to a trot. The rear door swung open from inside and she ducked into the car after casting one last glance around. She paused for just a second before closing the door behind herself. Mac swallowed hard. He felt like she had just made eye contact with him, like she knew he was there somehow.

Jack quietly asked, "Ri, you got her from above?"

Clicking of keys, followed by, "Yeah, and I've still got her phone, too. The mic's muffled so it must be in her pocket or something, but I've got the GPS more or less talking to me." Keys clicked away for a few more seconds. "I'm notifying Matty so she can communicate with the rest of the taskforce."

The car started to pull away. Mac glanced at Jack. "We should follow her."

Jack felt his lips press together in a hard line for a moment. "We should wait for orders from the boss-lady. You heard Ri – we're tracking our mark; don't you worry."

Jack didn't even want to use the codename at the moment. It had seemed almost like a joke when he'd first said it, Mac's Achilles heel sharing a name with the great detective's, but Mac was having a hard time with this. Any idiot could see it. And, Jack almost smiled to himself, he wasn't just any idiot, he was Mac's idiot. Mac shifted in his seat almost nervously. He felt like he could hear Jack's thoughts; and in Mac's head Jack was thinking that this was what kryptonite exposure looked like. For his own part, Jack could see the intense effort it took for Mac to try to treat this like any other mission, to not just snap to some decision because Nikki was involved. Jack glanced back at the house Nikki had just left, thinking that he'd come prepared for intensive interrogation and that although Mac found that aspect of the job distasteful and didn't have much of a stomach for it himself, he knew Jack was very good at it, and would support him any way he could, especially now. Jack wasn't sure how Riley might react to that occasionally necessary part of the work, but she'd have to learn some time, he supposed. He also thought that Danielson was probably an easy mark right about now, probably passed out in post-coital bliss after close to an hour between when Ri first interrupted them and Nikki had left, which made him vulnerable and easy to nab. But he would wait for word from Matty, from the task force. Last thing he wanted was to step on the fed's toes, or worse, on the toes of _Bethlehem's_ people, right here on their home turf. He was thinking of running some of what he was thinking by Mac when his phone buzzed.

"It's Matty," he announced, frowning slightly. Since the call came in only to him and wasn't a group call to the whole team, Jack just answered it and brought the phone up to his ear instead of putting it on speaker like he would have normally. "Hey, Mads, what's up?"

"More than I'd like. You physically saw _Irene_?"

Jack hedged, "Well, we saw a woman get into a grey sedan …"

"You saw _THE_ woman get into a grey sedan." Jack almost smirked. Matty had really taken to his Sherlock reference. It was sort of perfect, he thought. Nikki was the one person any of them had ever met that turned their genius into your average Joe. Matty continued, "We have a team tailing the sedan now. They were able to pick it up thanks to Riley's phone hack. I've got a relief team coming out for you at the residence you've identified as well."

Jack could feel Mac staring at him, straining to hear both sides of this conversation. "That's real good Matty, 'cause I'd really love to stretch my legs, but … what're we doin' with our buddy in the house?"

Matty's tight smile was apparent in her words. "Well, we certainly aren't letting him leave." She paused. Jack was pretty sure she was checking her tablet. "I've just confirmed that CIA is planning to pick him up shortly for … questioning."

Jack gave a small smile. That was good news. "So are we comin' in boss? 'Cause that woulda made a real nice group chat."

"Jack," Matty's tone was very serious. "I want you to hear this first because I'm having some regrets about letting this ops team in on this mission. I don't want Mac going off half-cocked." Jack was about to interrupt but Matty overrode his speech before he could begin. "Listen, I know he's a pro, but this is awfully close to home. For a number of reasons now."

"Okay," Jack prompted.

"Right after Riley's message came in, Bethlehem's personal detail attempted to notify him of the developments on the case and found that his home was empty." Jack swallowed with an audible click. "No one outside the residence saw anyone enter or leave."

"Jesus," Jack breathed and he sensed rather than saw Mac and Riley both tense, half ready to move and the other half wanting to freeze.

"There is a safe room in the center of the house. But there is no response to any attempts to communicate so far and his personal team has been unable to breach the security. Our involvement is now escalating beyond surveillance. I want your team on site ASAP to see what you can do.

"Yes, ma'am." Jack started the van and heard the younger team members buckling their seatbelts.

"I'll keep you looped in on _Irene_ and her boy toy."

"Thanks, Matty." Jack ended the call and began to pull out into the street.

Mac wasted no time. Jack's phone wasn't even back in his pocket yet when he asked, "Jack, what the hell was that all about?"

He tried to soften what he was going to say with a joke. "About you being right. I don't need my butt pillow."


	15. Chapter 15

They didn't have far to go but since the start of a new day was creeping up on them, traffic was beginning to pick up even in the pre-dawn dark of this residential area. Daily life started early in the nation's capital. Riley cleared her throat from behind her silent companions.

"So I've read through all the briefing materials, but I still don't really get who _Bethlehem_ is and why he's so important to the Organization. It all sounds like pseudo-military mumbo jumbo to me."

Jack chose not to answer, even though he easily could have. He learned early on that having to focus on a little exposition was good for Mac. It always seemed to relieve any anxiety he was having and help him detach emotionally when he needed to. This seemed like a situation where a good solid fact-dump before heading in would be a good idea. When Jack didn't pipe up Mac assumed that Jack must not be able to think of a good way to explain the situation and quickly picked up the relevant information from the supercomputer of stored memory he was lucky enough to keep inside his head.

"Well, you know that Bethlehem is the code name for the current director of the PFPA, Nathan Badgely."

"Yeah." Riley's affirmation went up at the end making it more of a question than an agreement.

"The PFPA is the Pentagon Force Protection Agency, sort of like the police force of the Department of Defense."

"So like MPs?"

Mac shook his head. "Not really. They provide law enforcement as well as security, both physical and technical, to the Pentagon, its employees, and all DOD outposts as well as the greater National Capital Region, meaning DC and the surrounding areas."

Riley had to smile. Mac was such an encyclopedia sometimes. Like Jack, Ri had noticed that using that particular skill set seemed to chill him out the way yoga did for Bozer, or writing code did for her. She almost snorted when she thought that the only thing that was similarly relaxing for Jack was to be handed a rocket launcher and told to go nuts. Still not quite clear, and also wanting to see his shoulders relax a little further away from his ears, she asked, "What does that even mean?"

Mac thought about it. "If the DOD was Phoenix, the PFPA would be Jack."

Riley laughed out loud and Jack grinned almost shyly. Occasionally Mac said little things like that which spoke of how important Jack was and in what high regard he held him. Nothing made the older man happier than knowing he was as admired by Mac as the young man was by him. Jack raised an eyebrow, "So what does that make _Bethlehem_?"

"Matty," Mac said without hesitation. "I know I'm straining the metaphor a little here, but Badgely knows where every important person, object, or piece of information in the entire DOD is literally all the time … And I've never met anyone smarter or more capable."

 _Wow_ , Riley thought, _an assessment like that from someone like MacGyver meant something_.

She was about to say something to that effect when he continued, "Of course, that's also what makes him so vulnerable. Everybody knows it. It's a fairly public job. There've been four attempts on his life, three kidnapping attempts on him specifically, and one …" Mac paused. That mission had been when he'd become involved with Bethlehem originally and the intensity, the danger of it, and their ultimate success, had sparked his serious involvement with Nikki. He picked up the thread before Riley could ask questions. "One successful kidnapping attempt of his only child. They tried to leverage her life for access to some of the vaults beneath the lowers levels of the Pentagon complex."

Genuinely curious, Riley asked, "What's down there that worth a kid's life?"

"Nothin' good," Jack offered.

Mac shook his head. "We don't know. But Jack's right. Thornton never informed us what the terrorists intended target was … but Jack and I have hashed it over a lot. We think it may have been a bio-weapon that was confiscated in the Baltic a while back." He took a slow deep breath and let it out. The more he talked about this, the more it seemed like a spider web, and he was just now noticing all the threads because they were strung up in the only door out of the locked room his circumstances kept putting him in lately. It made him nervous that Jack and Riley were stuck there with him. That made picking each of those threads all the more important. "At least we recovered Willa before they could really hurt her and we put a stop to them getting into the vaults, too. I mean, dealing with a well-funded international terrorist organization, I guess that's not much …" He trailed off, a little lost in thought.

"But it's not nothin'," Jack concluded as he pulled the van up to the ornately carved wrought iron gate of the gorgeous large white plantation-style house with sharp blue trim and beautiful flowering trees and shrubs. A smartly uniformed guard stepped toward the van with one hand on his sidearm as Jack put down the window to show him their credentials.

Riley let out a low whistle. "This place is gorgeous. Must've cost a freakin' mint. It's nicer than that shabby little place over on Pennsylvania Ave. Just sayin'."

Mac chuckled. It was a beautiful home if ostentatious was your thing. Mac thought he was pretty happy with the neat little house with lots of windows that he'd bought with the life insurance money from his mom and that he probably would stay there even after Bozer finally moved in with his girlfriend Beth from the lab, which was bound to happen just about any day now. Of course, Becca's parents had retired to a houseboat that he'd visited for her birthday party a month ago and he'd stood on the deck feeling almost envious of the freedom that conveyed. He shrugged, "It's an important job, very high stress. No one would do it if it didn't pay well. Besides, his wife is the Chief of Cardiac Surgery over at Johns Hopkins, so no way they'd be living in a shack even if he wasn't one of the most important men in the Beltway."

"Damn," she breathed as they were allowed to proceed and she got a better look at the estate.

It appeared that there was less security once you were inside, but they had to identify themselves again at the door and allow the agent stationed there to look through their duffle bags. Jack's supply of weapons, ammo, and basic first aid, and Riley's myriad tech tools garnered no special attention, but Mac's bag and its weird collection of items like several partial rolls of duct tape, a cube of magnesium, several magnets of various sizes and strengths, batteries, superglue, dragon's blood fingerprint powder, and various other oddments raised the man's eyebrows.

Used to people being unsure how to take him, and noticing a ring on the thirty-something's finger, Mac gave a self-deprecating shrug. "Improvise, adapt, and overcome; am I right?"

"Marine?" the agent asked with a friendly grin while handing him back his duffle.

Mac shook his head. "Nah. Ex-soldier. But as far as unofficial mottos go, I unofficially like it better than ' _This we will defend_ '. I mean they're both pretty great, but c'mon."

The man's smile broadened. "Well, as a Marine myself, I heartily agree."

He could be an ally if needed, Mac thought. He gave the guy a big grin before proceeding further into the house. He'd noticed before that most people he knew who had served either just referred to themselves as veterans or ex-whatever; maybe even I used to be _. Marines, however, Marines always said 'I'm a Marine' even the really old guys Mac had run into who hadn't put on the uniform since before he was born. The Marines weren't an option for him, since he wouldn't carry a gun, but he liked that a lot; a bond, a concept of service, that never died. He had a lot of respect for that. Besides, like he said, their unofficial motto should probably be a tattoo displayed somewhere prominently on his body. He snickered to himself, remembering Jack's words about getting inked and thinking the man was right, only a fool let someone stick a needle into them hundreds if not thousands of times for recreational purposes, artistic or otherwise. He would have to remember to pass that on to Jack, since Jack had countless tattoos all over his body and would get amusingly mock offended. Mac was only half paying attention when the chief of Badgely's personal security detail was talking to them about his team's efforts so far. Mac wasn't all that interested in what hadn't worked to get them into the safe room to see if that's where the Director was at the moment. He was too busy contemplating the odd old-fashioned locks that surrounded the access panel that housed the controls for the huge reinforced door that looked like something out of Game of Thrones that they were currently facing. He did hear Agent Cole say if more than three unsuccessful attempts were made to open that panel another level of security would be triggered here in the anteroom.

"Such as?" Jack prodded.

The man swallowed hard. "This room will lock itself and then have all available air removed by a very efficient vacuum system."

"How many times have you already tried?" Riley asked, reading his face.

"Two," the agent admitted, looking away.

Mac felt his face split into a grin. "I need everyone to clear the room."


	16. Chapter 16

Agent Cole looked at Mac with vague concern. Jack saw the man's hesitation and jumped in as Mac headed over to examine the panel more closely. "You heard the man; let's clear everybody outta here."

Cole's brow furrowed in a dubious expression. "I don't know Dalton. I helped the boss set that up and I've blown it twice already. You're boy got a death wish or something?"

"Or something," Jack said with just a hint of irritation as he opened the door and gestured grandly so no one would mistake his intent. "Everybody out. Let the man work his magic."

Before following the rest of his small security team out, Cole cast one last look at MacGyver. "If you don't get that open on the first try, this room will stay sealed on a timer for 15 minutes after the vacuums take the air. Not much chance of bringing you back from that, kid. And I have no idea what the Director installed inside that cupboard.

Mac just waved him out and went back to squinting at the set up, a small smile lifting one corner of his mouth. "You, too, guys," he said without looking up at his team.

"Fat chance," Riley said flatly. "You're probably gonna need me for whatever is behind that panel."

Mac gave her a hard look over one shoulder. "Yeah. And I'll come get you once this is open."

Jack stepped next to Mac and spoke in a low voice. "You're doing that thing again."

"What thing?" he asked obstinately, even though he knew exactly what Jack was going to say.

"Acting like your own life doesn't matter as much as the rest of the team."

"No," Mac snapped. "I'm minimizing the risk to the rest of the team so if things go south someone's still around for the priority mission."

"I've told you a thousand times what my priority mission is, Mac."

Mac slid him a slight smile, his irritation easing a little. "Yeah. But I've seen a set up like this before. My roommate at MIT did something like this to our door for a Halloween prank my freshman year."

Jack grinned. "So we're good then. You've already solved this puzzle. Means all of us are safe as houses. Do your thing." He leaned against the wall, folding his arms, making it clear he wasn't going anywhere.

Mac sighed. He supposed Jack was probably right, and honestly they didn't have the time, nor did he really have the mental will power, to argue right now. He was still just a little distracted about Jack mentioning that he hadn't slept through the flight after rescuing Ricky. Jack's face made him more than a little curious, as well as equally apprehensive, about what he might have said. Of course now wasn't the time to focus on it. He noted that Riley was already on her rig, trying to pick up some signal or clue as to what might be waiting under that odd little door that currently had most of his attention. Jack was staring waiting for him to continue to voice his dissent. "Fine," he said instead, turning his attention back to the task at hand and getting out his Swiss Army knife to access the longest thinnest blade.

"Um," Jack began, "so, what's your thing?"

"Well ... the premise of a set up like this is that these are basically Schrodinger's locks." He grinned when Riley snorted and glanced at Jack's expectant expression. "So this scientist named Erwin Schrodinger proposed a thought experiment based on Heisenberg's Uncertainty Principle."

"Like Breaking Bad?" Jack asked.

Mac chuckled. "Breaking Bad stole the name from an actual scientist. Anyhow, what Schrodinger said was unless you know something you have to assume that it exists in all possible states. In his experiment it was a cat that you had to think of as both alive and dead at the same time."

"Dude, that's sick."

Jack couldn't see what Mac was doing, but he did hear him snicker, "Yeah a little. Anyway, we don't know if these are locked or unlocked and in order to open this door we need all the locks in the unlocked position. So what we need is a way to see inside to determine their current state. Otherwise it's just a wild ass guess."

"Oh, no. I left my days of livin' by WAGs in the dust when I teamed up with you, kiddo." Jack paused trying to figure out what Mac was doing with his knife around the little door casing. "So, don't guess. MacGyver it."

"I knew that whole my name as a verb thing wasn't going away. You and Todd have made it a thing all over the damned office." Jack chuckled, wondering for a moment how Todd was doing heading up the detail on Badgely's daughter. "So this panel," Mac picked back up his explanation, "can't open until all sides are in the unlock position. All four sides. Not having hinges is annoyingly clever. Smitty never thought of that." He attempted to slide his knife in another spot between the door and the frame. "Damn. I've tried all around. It's too tight everywhere ... Anybody have a piece of paper?"

Riley and Jack both shook their heads. Mac frowned, contemplating his options.

"Wait!" Jack reached into his jean's pocket. "I've still got my stub from my boarding pass." The stub was impossibly wrinkled and Jack tried to smooth it out, first on his thigh and then against the wall. He held out the mangled piece of paper. "Sorry, man."

"It's all good. Flexible is actually better." Mac took it and immediately went to work.

After several frustrating minutes, Mac realized the door was either too flush with the frame or there was some sort of lip that he couldn't see. Next he tried putting his ear up to the wall to see if he could hear the bolt sliding into place. He almost thought he could hear something but it wasn't distinct enough to base a life or death decision on. He asked Riley to give it a try since she had been exposed to a lot fewer explosions than either he or Jack. She really tried, but insisted she couldn't hear anything; that loud music must be almost as bad as being too close to lots of bombs. She really wasn't sure and she couldn't make herself try to make the call knowing that the air they were breathing depended on making the right one. Then Jack remembered that Rodgers had given him the better than average field med kit, since he was home for a couple of weeks on family leave with his wife and new baby and Mac had gotten very salty when Matty tried to give them a fill-in person who was completely unfamiliar with how their ops team functioned. Since Matty knew this mission probably had him on edge already and they were going to be near civilization with inter-agency back-up this time, she didn't insist. Jack fished in the kit for a second and came up with the sort of high quality stethoscope Steve always favored. Mac took it and put it to immediate use without a word. After a few minutes of listening while barely breathing, Mac swore, using words Jack had never actually heard come out of his mouth before. He gave a frustrated sigh and handed back the stethoscope.

"Sounds the same either way ... I can't really tell if it's just rubbing or if it's sliding home."

He paced around for a few minutes, running his hands through his hair in frustration, and glaring at the locks like they had insulted his mother. Then, suddenly, his face brightened. He reached into the duffel that had raised such eyebrows when they came in, extracted a shiny silver cube about two inches in diameter and took it over to the little door.

"Watcha doin' with that pretty paperweight, Mac?" Jack asked.

Mac smiled as he touched it to the lock and there was a satisfying clink as it attached to it. "This is a rare earth magnet. Decently powerful. I'm pretty sure that I can't hear the difference between locked an unlocked because it's just going into the wood or the plaster - no metal reinforcer. This isn't really meant as a lock. It's meant to buy time."

Jack's whole face was a question, but Riley caught on. "Oh!" she exclaimed. "So if the magnet sticks to the wall, the lock is locked and if it doesn't it's already open!"

Mac grinned and nodded. Riley often claimed that tech was the only thing she was good at, but in more recent months she had slowly revealed a wealth of knowledge and other practical skills. That was probably why Matty had been after her to start trying to earn her degree, but like Mac, Riley wasn't wildly interested in sitting in a classroom to pretend to learn things she already knew just to prove she knew them. Once Mac had figured out a reliable method of inquiry, the lock problem resolved itself in less than five minutes. He was pretty confident in his result, but he still asked Jack and Riley to leave one last time before he tested it.

Jack stubbornly shook his head. "I'm sure you got it, bud. Besides," he paused, "on the off chance you're wrong, there might still be a way out they haven't thought of and we're better as a team."

"Seriously, Mac. We're not going anywhere," Riley added.

Mac shrugged and took a deep breath, not even conscious of the fact that he was holding it as he lifted the door plate easily off the frame and set it on the ground. He let out the breath and heard the others do the same. Jack gave him an affectionate clap on the back. "Way to go, man, I knew you had it knocked."

Mac couldn't help but grin. He loved solving puzzles. He'd half forgotten continuing to breathe was the first prize until a minute ago. Then a frown flitted across his face, so quickly even Jack missed it. If he could just solve this Nikki puzzle his life would be a lot better at the moment. His past just kept kicking him in the teeth, it seemed. "Now we just have to get through this ..." he indicated the access panel and its strange alphanumeric keyboard.

Jack said he'd go get Cole and see if he had any ideas. Riley stopped him. "We don't need those guys and I don't want them to see my new toy."

Mac was already intrigued. Riley took a small dully black sphere out of her bag and set it's slightly flat side down just above the keyboard on the access panel. A dim blue light from somewhere underneath it bathed the keyboard. Riley gave a humble smile. "Something I've been working on with R and D." She just shrugged at their expressions like it wasn't amazing. After another minute or two they could all hear a series of low clicking sounds and the large door to the safe room popped open with a faint pneumatic hiss. Riley picked up her mysterious 'toy' and slipped it back in with the rest of her gear before she went and opened the outer door so Badgely's security detail could enter the safe room with them.

Cole led the way, followed closely by Jack, weapons drawn just in case. "Director Badgely," Cole called out. "Are you in here? It's Cole, sir."

No answer. They eased the heavy door open. There was a chorus of quiet cursing as they found the small, well-appointed room, without an occupant. Cole and his second Allen, along with Mac and Jack, entered and started a methodical search for any evidence that might tell them if the Director had been there and where he might have gone. After a few minutes Allen tripped on the folded edge of an expensive area rug. He nearly went sprawling, but Mac caught him before he cracked his head on the small side table next to the overstuffed armchair in the center of the room. As Mac helped him to his feet, he asked, "You okay, man?"

Allen mumbled that he was fine and bent down to straighten the rug before someone else wiped out on it too. "What the hell?" he murmured as he noticed an odd seam in the floor just under the edge of where the rug should be resting. Mac crouched down next to him and they peeled the rug back, revealing a large trap door. The four men opened it carefully and found a ladder that disappeared down into the darkness.

Cole called out, "Director Badgely? Sir?" His voice was swallowed up by the space and took on an odd echoing quality that spoke of either a large room below, or perhaps a tunnel. Jack was already on the ladder with a small dim flashlight held in his teeth when Cole yelled down with worried frustration, "Damn it, Nate, where are you?"

Mac laid a hand on his shoulder before following Jack. Ladders in the dark weren't so bad. You couldn't tell how high up you were. When they reached the floor a few moments later, Jack started to sweep the flashlight around to see what he could discern and Mac felt along the walls. He found a switch quickly and the emergency lights it turned on showed them to be in a small room that led into a narrow winding tunnel. Jack looked around more carefully after his eyes adjusted to the light and quickly took out his cell phone. He saw that there was no signal down there and grumbled something Mac didn't quite catch. "Ri!" he yelled up the ladder.

"Yeah, Jack! I'm right here."

"Get Matilda on the line would ya?"

"I'm on it. What should I tell her?"

"Tell her we may need some support to gear up proper and maybe pull Todd back in from over at Georgetown. I got blood splatter down here."


	17. Chapter 17

Mac sat in the straight-backed chair up against the wall in the parlor, leaning his forearms across his thighs so he could hold a folder of lab results open in front of him, a posture that managed to look frustrated and resigned while concealing how exhausted this had him. Jack was talking with Dr. Badgely on the other side of the room. She was distraught, certainly, but perhaps as much from being called away from an important case as she was at what might be going on with her husband at the moment. Mac had the fleeting thought that it was a sad world when someone you loved was almost used to crazy dangerous things happening and took it as a matter of course. He sighed. He and Jack had found nothing in the short tunnel that led to the street outside the fence on the other side of the house; nothing, except for a few more drops of blood and one smear on the wall near the exit. They could find no way it could have been used to enter from the street, but they had a team on it now. He held the rushed lab results in his hands. The blood belonged to Nathan Badgely, the smeared hand print to one Nichole Vera Carpenter. Estimates suggested the sample was at least twelve hours old. Whatever happened in that tunnel had happened last evening before they'd managed to track the signal on Nikki's phone. That was almost more damning than the CIA's report that Agent Clark Danielson had been found in the front bedroom of the house they'd seen Nikki leave with one neat bullet hole in the middle of his forehead. Riley was still analyzing the audio files she had to see if she could determine exactly when Nikki had murdered the man. She kept mumbling over it about what the hell kind of silencer must have been used.

Todd came back through the door looking frustrated after his talk with 'the locals', as he put it, which for him meant everyone to the city police right on up to the CIA if they weren't from Phoenix. Mac raised his eyebrows in a question, but Todd just shook his head, frowning. Of course Todd had already had the unenviable job this morning of waking Ms. Willa Badgely from a finals-induced coma in her dorm to inform her that due to a new security risk he needed to take her home. She had been upset, but tight-lipped on the car ride there, simply sitting in the back staring out the window. When she'd arrived at home, after throwing herself into her mother's arms for a fierce hug and a succinctly worded update that probably could only have come from a surgeon used to holding people's lives in her hands, she'd turned and recognized Jack and MacGyver. Neither of them would have recognized this college student from the last time they'd seen her at the age of fourteen if not for the ice blue eyes she'd gotten from her father. She walked over to the two of them and simply handed Jack her phone with a slightly trembling hand. "I was hoping it would be you guys. What do you make of this?"

Jack looked at the text she'd received ostensibly from her father right around the time they'd been breaching the underground tunnel. Since waking she'd tried texting him back repeatedly but with no success. Jack read it aloud. "' _Do not wait to strike until the iron is hot; make it hot by striking_.' What the hell?"

Mac had his phone out and was already hitting up Google. "More Yeats," was his frustrated reply. He was worn out by these games. Honestly, it was a mental exhaustion he'd felt often since coming home several months before and finding Nikki ransacking his house. "If it means anything at all, I'd guess that it's whoever is behind this is hoping to use our reaction against us." Willa had been trying to hold everything together, but frightening memories washed over her, making her feel like a scared kid again and she shuddered. Mac gave her a reassuring smile. "We'll find your dad, Willa. And you'll be safe here. This is going to be our staging area so it's crawling with the good guys. We won't let them get near you again."

She hugged her elbows, but nodded. "Thanks."

Jack walked her back over to her mother, and then escorted both of them out of the room to sit with their enhanced security detail and answer some questions everyone was hopeful might pinpoint the window in which the Director had actually gone missing, a difficult task since Willa lived on campus and Dr. Badgely had gotten a hotel room last night due to a very early meeting she'd had scheduled before getting the call from Cole this morning. When Jack came back he found Mac leaning against the wall staring at Willa's phone. "Does that mean anything to you? Really?"

Mac shrugged and put it down on the nearby sideboard next to the folder he'd been reviewing. "That Nikki really is crazy? Hell, I don't know."

Jack put a hand on his shoulder, "We'll figure it out, brother. We always do."

Mac nodded and gave him a half-smile and settled in to re-read all the documentation they had on the case to see if he could come up with anything new.

Unfortunately, the day dragged on with no new information and a frustrating lack of evidence. Around seven that night, Jack was fussing at Mac about going all day without eating and trying to get him to agree to taking a break and maybe a nap, which Jack had done earlier in the afternoon in the living room, along with Riley and Cole who had also been up all night, when Riley came in and ended his mother-hening. "Hey."

They both looked up at her from their seat at the dining room table, Jack looking a little annoyed that he hadn't won Mac over yet and Mac at least a little relieved that Jack's parenting had been interrupted. "Hey," Mac greeted. "Find something?"

Riley leaned against the door jamb. "Yeah. We've got a definitive time of death on Danielson. If it was really Nikki we saw getting into that car …"

"It was her," Mac interrupted.

Riley shrugged. "Okay, well, then Nikki couldn't have shot him. TOD is roughly two hours later, not too long before the CIA guys went in to pick him up. We were already over here, busting in to the Director's safe room when the dude bought it."

Jack saw the familiar war between feeling betrayed and almost hopeful pass over Mac's expression. Then Mac said, his voice full of frustration and apprehension, "How the hell much of our intelligence agencies can the Organization buy?"

Once again Jack found himself reassuring his friend. "We'll find out this time."

Mac was nodding, thinking that he certainly hoped so when his own cell buzzed in his pocket. He took it out and puffed out a long slow sigh before tossing it down on the table in front of Jack. Riley stepped closer so she could read it too. " _Getting warmer?_ " was all the text from an unknown number said.

Riley asked the thing all of them were thinking. "Why is she playing games with you? If she's not a baddie, why not just help you, and if she is, why the cat and mouse crap?"

Mac shrugged. "She gets bored. Smart people always get bored." He sighed again. "Smart crazy people entertain themselves at others' expense."

Jack was looking at him with real concern, the old flat detached voice was making a comeback this evening, and Jack didn't like it one bit. He was prevented by saying anything when another text came through.

 _"38 53 58 N 77 02 12 W 2100 local_."

Riley frowned. "Coordinates?" Jack guessed.

"Mmm," Mac mumbled, copying it into Google. "Lafayette Park in DC. That's right across from the White House."

"You thinkin' the 2100 means tonight at 9 local time?"

Mac nodded reluctantly, lips pressed into a colorless line. "Probably better let the Secret Service in on this … Ri, want to call Matty and see if she wants to make the call?"

She was nodding her agreement when another text came through and he felt his stomach sink just slightly. " _Come alone, Mac._ "

Then he had to grin when Jack snapped, "Like hell you will!"


	18. Chapter 18

Mac strolled through the park like he belonged there, with the hood of his loose sweatshirt pulled up over his blond hair and his hands casually in the front pockets. The park was known locally as Protest Park and had its fair share of people holding vigil over various causes in view of the presidential residence, but also, because it was known for cause-related campouts, the homeless flocked here was well. It was as good a place as any Mac had ever seen for a clandestine meeting. It was dark here in the park, despite the brilliantly lit edifice across the street, illuminated mostly by small illegal fires and camp lanterns. Jack's voice spoke low in his ear on the carefully concealed comm mic.

"See anything?"

Mac shook his head, not even aware of the motion, "Nothing." He was about to turn around for another pass when he felt something hard press into his lower back, jabbing painfully at his kidney, making him suck in his breath before he could answer. "Ssst. Hey Nikki," he guessed.

"Keep walking. And drop the comm."

He pulled the earpiece out without hesitation and let it fall to the ground. He made his feet keep moving, turning when he felt the uncomfortable pressure of the gun change the least little bit. Nikki didn't speak again until they were behind the imposing statue of Andrew Jackson and his horse. She spun him around keeping her gun leveled at his midsection and used her free hand to draw her hood away from her face. Mac, sensibly he thought, kept his hands up just in front of him where she could see them.

"Show your face," Nikki said quietly.

Mac drew back his hood and returned his hands to a position of being slightly raised at about waist level. "Nikki. What are you doing?"

From the light at the base of the statue Mac could see Nikki's eyes blown wide. She looked absolutely terrified; not an expression he was used to seeing, or had ever really seen, come to think of it. "Mac … I know you don't trust me … you don't have any reason to … I tried to tell you before so you wouldn't get involved … but you are in serious trouble. So is everyone who's been anywhere near _Bethlehem_ or his home in the last 16 hours or so."

Mac didn't even really process what her words might mean on a larger scale at first. "Please don't tell me you're still going to try to convince me this is some deep cover bullshit because …"

"No." Her voice was cold and flat. "I work for the Organization. I have for a long time. Since MIT actually." Her gun dipped for a second, then leveled at him again. "But until recently I was a true believer. I thought the monster needed its head cut off and that if I helped do that everything would be okay in the end." She paused and Mac was about to say something, but she cut him off. "But it won't. They're not after change. Whoever is in charge wants the country, hell, the world, in chaos. That doesn't serve anyone as far as I can tell. I want to turn myself in. But if I do, it's on the condition that I get to be part of this to see them brought down."

Mac thought for a minute. "Did you know your partner was dead?"

"Of course." Mac didn't say anything, just waited, thinking his arms were getting tired. "I killed him." She knew what he was thinking. "I did it while … he was distracted." Mac swallowed hard. "Then I put hot packs all over him for a while before I left. I was a little worried he would read as still alive, or slightly cooked when someone found him, but I guess I did a good job if no one guessed it was me … I would've gotten away clean, but I figured out what you did to my phone. You were listening."

"No …" Mac shook his head emphatically. "Your replacement was listening. And she's good. Better than you ever were Nikki."

She smiled slyly. "At everything?"

Mac forgot there was a gun leveled at him for a moment and sputtered indignantly. "I … why … you …"

Nikki laughed. The sound gave him an unpleasant shiver. "Poor Mac. Still such a Boy Scout. They didn't know what they were losing when they kicked you out." She took a step toward him, intending to press the gun into his belly to show how serious she was when she heard the hard click of a gun cocking right next to her ear.

"Hey, Nikki. Funny thing about comms. They still pick up when they're dropped unless you stomp 'em. So I maybe lost you in the dark for a sec, but finding you again was sweatless."

"Hey, Tex. How's it hangin'?" she queried flippantly, making sure Jack could see how close to Mac's vital organs her weapon was.

"Just fine; thanks for askin' Nik. How 'bout you put that down?"

"How 'bout no?" she spat back.

"Thought you wanted to turn yourself in?" Jack pressed closer and he could see Mac's eyes widen just a little at whatever happened to Nikki's face.

"Goddamnit, Jack. I do. I just have terms. And if you don't stop a second and listen you'll die." She paused, knowing Jack only half cared about that. "And Mac will die too. You've both been exposed."

Neither one of them really process what she said. "I'm listenin'," Jack offered.

"The Organization has been after _Bethlehem_ for a while. But he's been good. His detail, the agent DXS left with them after our working the case with his little girl, Pentagon security; everything has been tight. Until after the breach at Phoenix, until Murdoc got loose. He's got a real axe to grind with you and your team, and he's brilliant. Scary good."

"This is about Murdoc?" slipped out of Mac's mouth before he could stop himself.

"Where else do you think all the creepy poetry came from?" Nikki asked, incredulous.

"But you signed it!" Mac sounded almost offended.

Nikki shook her head, ignoring Jack's gun, now pressing under her ear and hurting a fair amount. "I didn't. I said 'scary good' didn't I?"

Jack was thinking a little more clearly than Mac, so he pressed the gun into the hollow behind Nikki's ear a little more firmly and asked, "So where's _Bethlehem_? Don't tell me it wasn't you who took him either."

Nikki gave Mac an almost pleading look before answering. "He's at a motel not too far from here. I've been treating him. We need to go get him, get the vaccine, or you guys will be leaving a blood trail all over soon too."

"Wait. What ..?" He kept his gun barrel where it felt safe, hoping she was just making empty threats.

"The Organization accessed the vaults weeks ago. Below the Pentagon. They got the bio-weapon they wanted. Probably worse than the one you destroyed. Except a vaccine was already developed and it works as treatment, too. _Bethlehem_ was scheduled to speak to Congress before their recess tomorrow and the Organization planned to infect him and let that go home to all fifty states after his contact with them."

"And we're supposed to believe you intervened because ..?"

Nikki shifted, trying to move away from Jack's gun but he just pressed it harder, and now managed to grab the arm holding the gun pointed at Mac. "I got exposed unintentionally. They don't care about their people. Then I found out you guys had been pulled in … I've already done enough damage."

Jack took in the almost devastated look in Mac's eyes, but it was an emotion that someone would have to know him very well to discern. Jack didn't think Nikki saw it, since when Mac extended his hand for her weapon she just flipped it around and handed it to him butt first. Mac emptied the bullets into his hand and put them into one pocket, while sliding the gun into the other. Jack passed him cuffs with his free hand, and Nikki didn't resist being taken into their custody now. They were walking to the car, Jack on the radio to Matty and Riley, when Mac pulled Nikki around to face him, his eyes wide and bright with sudden realization as his conscious mind finally strung together everything she had said and he made the mental leap. "Wait. Did you say we've all been exposed?"


	19. Chapter 19

MacGyver didn't seem to notice the flurry of activity around them; he just sat resting his head against the concrete wall behind his chair with his hands jammed into his sweatshirt pockets and his eyes closed. Jack had tried a few times since taking Nikki into custody to get him talking, but with minimal success, especially now that they were stuck here in quarantine in a high school gym along with everyone else who'd been near _Bethlehem_ or his belongings while various alphabet soup agencies attempted to work together to verify Nikki's story, keep _Bethlehem_ alive, and see if the vials Nikki had stolen from her dead partner were really a vaccine or if it was just part of a larger plot by the Organization to stir up trouble on a grand scale. He glanced over at Riley, who was asleep on a couple of chairs she had pushed together, using her laptop bag as a pillow. For a minute Jack thought Mac might have just fallen asleep too, but the tension in his shoulders told Jack there was no way that could be true. The kid might have a hard time sleeping, but when he did he went full rag doll. Mac's eyes crinkled for a second, like maybe he had a headache. Since they were supposed to report anything that could possibly be a symptom to the nearest faceless employee in a Tyvek protective suit, Jack decided the time had come again to try to talk to him.

"You feelin' okay, bud?" he began.

"Sure," he said sarcastically as he picked his head up and opened his eyes. "I'm great. My ex is involved in some doomsday conspiracy, the psycho who wants to kill us all is part of it, their organization still has the container of whatever they stole and dosed _Bethlehem_ with, and instead of being out there tracking down Murdoc and that canister, we're locked in a high school gym that looks like an episode of the X-files gone wrong, expecting to be guinea pigs for whatever it is Nikki is claiming will keep everyone alive. How could I possibly be better?"

Jack gave him a long speculative look and an understanding smile. "Yeah, I get it."

Mac shook his head, prepared to change the subject. "What do you think this means for Thornton?"

"Nikki confessing to being an Organization operative? Maybe nothing. Maybe everything." Jack shrugged. "One crisis at a time, brother."

"Yeah … We should've known Nikki was dirty when she came back the first time. I mean, I guess it doesn't mean Thornton isn't really dirty, too. Story always was she recruited Nikki for our team personally. But her story doesn't make sense. No way CIA pulls another organization under the way Nikki did to DXS trying to buy an 'in' with anybody. That was just her trying to get into Phoenix, to get to us."

"Agreed," Jack nodded. "You really doin' okay?"

"I just said no, Jack. I'm not even slightly okay right now. And I'm kind of ready to climb the walls. Talking about it isn't helping!"

"I actually meant do you have a headache someone ought to know about? Your face was all scrunched up a minute ago."

Mac stood up and paced a few steps away, but when several heads hooded in protective gear turned his way in concern, he huffed a sigh and sat back down next to Jack in one of the especially uncomfortable folding chairs they'd been provided with. One corner of his mouth lifted in an almost wry smile at his friend's concern. "I'm good, Jack." Then he gave Jack a hard look in return, thinking that he looked pale and tired. "How about you?"

Jack patted him on the shoulder. "I'm good, bud. Believe me, the second I so much as feel like an eyelash is out of place, one of those suits will know it, and they best be doin' somethin' about it on the hop or I'll put a hole in that nice gear so they're in the same boat as me and have some real motivation to get to work." Mac chuckled in spite of himself. That sounded about right. They were both somewhat relieved that this contagion apparently had to be passed through physical contact; although it could live outside a body for quite a while, that was still a lot less scary than airborne, a lot easier to contain and sanitize for. Jack frowned at him again. "Are you sure you're ..?"

"Jack, I'm fine. This isn't the first time we've been in this situation. You know I'm not gonna screw around with my safety or anyone else's. Why do you always have to fuss?" he asked in growing frustration.

"You get funny about medical stuff. You know you do," he said bluntly.

Mac was defensive. "I do not ' _get funny_ '; you just think a paper cut is reason to go to the infirmary – if it's me anyway. I rationally decide if something is serious enough to warrant attention. I'm not wasting my time for no reason."

Jack shook his head. "Rationally? Mac, buddy, everything I needed to know about how rational you were ever gonna be about that stuff I learned on that helicopter less than half a week after we met."

Mac frowned; he could think of nothing he could possibly have said that would warrant Jack's constant fussing.

"You really don't remember?"

Mac shook his head. He wasn't sure he wanted to know, but he was so frequently annoyed with Jack's behavior around the issue and Jack seemed to think Mac had justified it a long time ago, so against his better judgment he finally asked, "What exactly did I say to you?"

0-0-0

"Hey, bud, you okay there? Pain breakin' through?" Jack felt pretty good about now; he'd hiked all over mountains with a bullet wound before, without the benefit of morphine, so pain relief like Punchy had provided was pretty much bliss. The kid, on the other hand, had moaned softly several times in the last few minutes and Jack could see that instead of being passed out or at least dopey, Mac's eyes were wide open.

Jack saw the blond head shake. Much as he didn't really want to move he got back down on the floor next to the stretcher and put his hand on Mac's uninjured shoulder. "You sure?"

Now the kid nodded. "I was just dreaming," he mumbled listlessly.

Jack gave his arm a reassuring squeeze. "We'll be back at base soon, kiddo. Nice clean quiet hospital room and a chance to take it easy and heal up. Real rest for a week or so probably." Mac grumbled something half under his breath. "What was that, bud?"

"I told you before I can't rest in one of those places. I hate hospitals."

There was a little more heat behind the sentiment than Jack would have expected from a kid dosed with painkillers and sedatives, and with a big ole piece of jagged metal sticking out of his shoulder to boot. "Enough to sneak out of one; yeah I got that." Mac shook his head and looked like he'd say something else, but Jack saw him press his lips together hard, so he decided to try a distraction. "I'm not a real big fan myself. I like bein' in charge and I never yet met somebody in scrubs who wasn't bossy as hell. And usually that just pisses me right off, but this one time, I dated this nurse. Gorgeous redhead, oh my God. I woulda let that woman tell me to jump off a skyscraper …"

"My mom died of leukemia when I was six," Mac said blandly. "Sometimes I don't remember what it was like before she was in the hospital."

"Jesus, kid," Jack breathed. "I'm so sorry."

"I was there all the time. I'd go right after school and read to her and stuff. I slept there a lot. At first they used to try to make me go home, but I'd just sneak out of the house and go back, so after awhile they let me stay."

His voice had almost no color and Jack couldn't decide if it was from the huge dose of medication Punchy had given him or if the kid was just caught up in his memories. He didn't know what to say, except that the stubborn recklessness he'd observed apparently wasn't anything new. Instead he just patted the kid, encouraging him to go on if he wanted to.

"I felt so bad for her. I always hated doctors. Like if I knew I had to go get shots or something I'd take off and hide in the woods and my dad would have to come and find me. Every kid knows that hiding doesn't get them anywhere, but I still always tried." He sighed. "But she was always so nice to everybody, never gave any of the doctors or nurses a hard time. So when I had a chance to try and help her I did."

"How could you help her, Mac?"

"She needed bone marrow, they thought. And I was a match and my dad said I could do it." He sighed again.

"Going through something like that would be enough to make anybody want to stay away from hospitals forever," Jack said, and he could feel a line forming across his forehead. He was pretty high on his own pain meds at the moment, but he knew what that involved, especially back in the '90's, and he had an overwhelming urge to meet Angus MacGyver's father and bust him in the mouth at that moment.

Mac made a sound that Jack thought was almost a laugh, but it was too bitter, too sad to really get there. "Well, it wasn't any fun, that's for sure." He paused for a minute and then Jack could see a little fond smile on his face and his eyes had started to look far off and sleepy again. "My mom didn't know until after. She was so mad at him, but she didn't yell at him in front of me. She called me a superhero and then ... See, I didn't know they were gonna make me stay overnight afterward and I got upset. My mom, she talked the nurses into letting me spend the night right next to her in her bed. She made up this whole story about my superpowers and then she gave me my own theme song and sang it to me. I pretty much forgot where we were and just went to sleep."

"Your mom sounds pretty great," Jack said softly.

"Yeah. She was really cool. My dad was too, before she got sick. Even though he was gone a lot." His eyelids were really starting to droop now, and Jack realized that was probably because Punchy was on the other side of him getting some more meds into his system before they landed. "When Mom told my grandfather, he was too mad to even yell at my dad. I went and stayed with him after that … until she came home to die. So being in that hospital didn't help her. And neither did I. I wasn't a hero at all."

This time a tear trailed down his cheek, but he was too sleepy to notice.

0-0-0

"I …" Mac let out a puff of air that sounded more defeated than anything. "I don't remember any of that.

"Telling me or what you said happened?"

Mac shrugged. "Either?" He paused and gave a little shudder. "You know, people have been telling me that I'm a little weird since I was a kid … The more I look at it, the more I think Marissa is right … I'm way more normal than I ought to be."

"Besides," Jack clapped him on the shoulder, "normal is overrated. I'm the happiest person I know and I ain't been normal since … ever."

Mac grinned and shook his head. No wonder Jack fussed over him, didn't quite trust that he'd get help when he needed it. Now that he'd sat with it a minute, he could vaguely remember some of the things Jack told him he'd confessed. Well, that was a whole new can of worms that he'd have to open in therapy at some point. But not anytime soon, he thought to himself. Because frankly, he was getting by just fine as it was, and didn't really have a desire to remember more of that. He'd just have to be a little more patient with Jack and maybe a little more honest when he was sick or injured. That ought to be quite enough to be getting on with. He looked up at Jack to make a promise to do just that and felt his stomach drop. "Jack …" was all he managed.

Jack's hand darted up to his face at the look in Mac's eyes and came away from his nose shaking and bloody.

Mac didn't say a word, just got to his feet to grab the nearest suit that looked like it might have medical personnel inside and sat back down next to Jack with a hand on his friend's shoulder, heedless of whether or not contact with him could increase his own danger of getting sick, as he watched their situation go from bad to a whole hell of a lot worse.


	20. Chapter 20

Mac had been helping a couple technicians move Jack into one of the classrooms that had been turned into a temporary hospital room, keeping up a back and forth of teasing and occasional reassurances when Willa Badgely had simply passed out while walking back to her seat from the water cooler. Her mother was not far behind, both collapsing and presenting with a bloody nose, just like Jack. They were followed by two members of Badgley's security detail and one of the CIA agents who'd gone to pick up Danielson. Mac had made sure Jack was comfortable on the gurney that was the best they could produce to serve as a bed and that the people who were with him knew what the hell they were doing before turning to go find Agent Cole, who had disappeared with the CIA agents who were questioning Nikki. One of the nurses put a heavily gloved hand on his arm to stop him. Her voice sounded tinny and far away through the air filter inside her head to toe covering. "You were sitting right next to him, sir. You should lie down as well. It seems like it's only a matter of time before everyone who was at the Director's house will need to be monitored."

Mac looked into her eyes, the only part of her face that was visible, through the faintly steamed window of her suit. "Do I look sick to you?"

She shook her head. "No, sir." She paused. "Not yet."

He tipped his chin toward Jack. "I'll be back in a few minutes."

He made a few stops on his way to his destination, but when he finally found where they were questioning Nikki he almost had to smile. They'd appropriated the principal's office; probably because the desk looked somewhat imposing and official and you took your trappings of authority where you could find them he supposed. Something about his face told the two agents standing outside the door to just get out of his way. He banged it open and it bounced off the wall loudly enough that everyone in the room, particularly Nikki who was currently handcuffed to a folding chair being stared down by Cole and two other agents, who were both pretty intimidating in the anti-infectious disease covering they were wearing. "People are dropping like flies."

Nikki's eyes were round and innocent. "And I already offered the cure! It came right out of the vault where the canister was stolen from too! I'm telling you it's safe. I was using it on the Director already; it's why he didn't get sicker. If you don't start treating him with it again until the symptoms disappear he could still die. It only works as a vaccine if you get it before the symptoms start."

"Why were you helping him?" Mac was suspicious of everything she said, but he wanted to believe the vials contained help. So far the mobile lab hadn't been able to confirm anything and the city-wide search Matty was heading up from the outside to find the canister, to try to find Murdoc, to locate agents of the Organization in town to execute this plan hadn't yielded anything either.

"I contacted him when I saw how far things were going. He let me in to the tunnel to his house and I had to help him get out. He was already sick. I took him to the motel I brought you to and then I went back to get the treatment off Danielson. I'd already been dosed with it as a vaccine because someone mishandled the canister when we brought it here. The Organization doesn't want to just make a point, they want a failed state." She was starting to sound a little desperate and her eyes were ranging all over him like she was waiting for him to start bleeding any second, too. He thought she did a pretty good job of looking like that would bother her, but he was past caring at the moment. And something told him she was lying; about some or all of it. He wasn't sure, but he was taking nothing for granted anymore.

"How can we trust that the supposed cure is safe and not some other form of contagion?" He squinted at her, like she was a specimen on a slide.

"I told you, it's the whole reason I haven't gotten sick. I'll take a lie detector, whatever … What more do you want from me?"

Mac took one of the vials out of his pocket, along with a syringe wrapped in sterile plastic and set them on the desk in front of one of the other agents. "Test it on her," he said flatly.

Cole looked at him with slightly wide eyes. "Are you serious?"

Mac glanced at him, but his eyes immediately went back to Nikki's face. "Do it."

"MacGyver, we have people …"

"Too slow. We need to know if we can start treating people and we need to know if we can start mass producing the stuff or if we can use it to identify what was stolen from the vaults so we know exactly what we're dealing with. We need to know now."

One corner of Nikki's mouth went up in a knowing smirk. "When you said 'people are dropping' you meant Dalton, didn't you Mac?" His face gave away nothing, but she knew him very well. The slight glimmer of fear, of guilt, was in those baby blues as clearly to her as if he'd said it aloud. She tossed her head, sending her dyed-black hair back over her shoulder. "Go ahead. I won't try to fight you. It's safe."

Mac kept his eyes on her face, as one of the others injected her with twice the dose she'd been telling them was what they should start giving everyone. After that, they all watched her in near silence for the next ten minutes. Finally she just huffed in irritation. "See. Not poison." She gave Mac what almost passed for a sympathetic look. "How bad is he?"

Mac purposely misunderstood. "He was unconscious when we found him at the motel and he still is …"

"No," she interrupted. "Jack."

Mac shook his head. "Low grade fever, bloody nose, murderous rage displayed as him talking about all the ways he wants to kill you …"

Nikki closed her eyes for a minute. She had to like Jack. He'd never really trusted her. Not since day one. Clever bastard. Mac would be able to use someone like him with what was coming. If the Organization wasn't successful here, they had a lot in the pipeline. She would tell them, if she could get something like a decent deal. If. She thought briefly that she should've just let this play out. But she'd buckled. Only thing to do now was make the most of it. "How long?"

Mac didn't want to give her anything else, but it seemed like a question with a purpose. "'Bout an hour now, I guess."

"That's good. Two or three doses about twenty minutes apart ought to do it at this stage. Go get it started before any more symptoms develop."

Mac glanced around the room for a minute, hesitated, and then picked up the vial he knew was clean, turned, and walked out calmly. When he was out of sight of that door, he broke into a jog to get that medicine to Jack as fast as he could. Ninety minutes later Mac walked back into the makeshift hospital room to check on Jack and found his bed empty. Mac was about to panic that something terrible had happened when Jack came back from the nearby locker room, obviously freshly showered and wearing clean clothes from his go-bag. Mac strode over to him looking both irritated and concerned. "Jack, what are you doing out of bed? Two hours ago I was worried you were gonna bleed to death and here you are …"

"Ready to go out there and kick some ass with you? You bet I am, kiddo." He waved at one of the medical staff who was putting something into the IV of the semi-lucid Nathan Badgely. The woman waved back in return, a gesture that reassured Mac that Jack had medical clearance to be doing what he was doing. Jack tipped him a grin. "That stuff worked great. Hopefully _Bethlehem_ will be in a talking mood pretty soon and can move this investigation along." Mac nodded. "Any word from Matty?"

Mac shook his head. He didn't want to admit that he hadn't even looked at his phone since Jack had first started bleeding. He'd been too focused on trying to save his friend to care about the larger mission for a little while. Now was probably a good time to check it and make sure he wasn't a liar through lack of attention. There was a text waiting on his phone, but it wasn't from Matty.

" _I have believed the best of every man. And find that to believe is enough to make a bad man show him at his best, or even a good man swing his lantern higher."_

Mac sighed and before he could stop himself his fingers flew over the buttons. " _Seriously, Murdoc?_ "

It was a stupid move, he thought, but it had been remarkably satisfying nevertheless.

"More what's-his-name?" Jack asked gently as they walked through the gym and he waved at Riley for her to join them.

"Yeah." Mac gave a frustrated sigh as another text arrived. " _I have spread my dreams under your feet_ ," Mac read aloud. He thought for a minute, the last few days weighing heavily on his mind and getting in the way of his thoughts ordering themselves as neatly as he would have liked.

"Betcha that whatever he's planning next has something to do with the Mall and he's somewhere he can see the whole show," Jack offered.

Mac was about to say that's what he was thinking too when Matty called. Jack answered for both of them and without preface Matty asked, "How's everyone feeling now?"

"Right as rain Matilda, but hopin' for a little more excitement this evening."

"Contracting a potentially deadly disease and being rescued by your partner pulling a Jack Dalton move isn't enough for you?"

Mac's eyes went wide and he gave video-Matty a little head shake. He hadn't told Jack or Riley how he found out the formula was safe yet. Jack side-eyed him but just joked with a wink, "I know you didn't just call to wish me well, Director Webber."

Matty agreed. "Someone is currently holed up in the Washington Monument. We have to assume he is armed. There's quite a crowd gathering below. And we have reason to believe it's Murdoc."

"Murdoc is in the top of the Washington Monument ready to pick people off or something worse?" Jack asked incredulously.

"Of course he is," Mac sighed and ran a frustrated hand through his hair.

"If the team is in the clear, why don't you meet the rest of the taskforce that's available and see what you can find out. I've got a car waiting for you."

"Will do, Matty; bye."

The three of them breezed past the various guards who had all been notified who was on the list to leave and who had pictures of everyone who had been cleared.

"You really up to this already, Jack?" Mac asked quietly, trying to keep the concern in his voice to a minimum and doing a lousy job of it. He grinned a little when he realized he would have to give Jack more credit for not sounding like he was mid-panic attack all the time.

"I'm good, Mac. Honest. Had a pretty scary hour or so, but I'm just dandy now thanks to you ' _pulling a Jack Dalton_ ' I believe the woman said." Mac just grinned. "What about you guys? Got your shots?"

"First in line, Jack," Riley quipped as she climbed into the front seat of the waiting car, nodding at the driver.

"Mac?" Jack gave Mac his best mock-stern dad voice.

"Of course I did!" He said defensively as he slid into the back seat on the far side of the car.

"You're the one who said you used to run off and hide in the woods …"

"Shut up, Jack."

The half embarrassed grin that accompanied his reply reassured Jack that revealing their conversation from that long ago helicopter ride hadn't driven the kid into shutting mental doors again. "I'm just checkin'."

As they pulled away from the curb another video call came in. They were pleased to see Director Badgely sitting up with his intense blue eyes focused and calm. "Gentlemen; I know that thanks for saving my life may be premature give that the night is young, but I offer it anyway."

"You're welcome, sir," Mac replied for both of them.

"I'm calling because I just spoke with your Director Webber. I overheard several phone conversations when I was with that young woman. At first when she contacted me I thought she was still with your team, but I listened nonetheless. I believe the information may be relevant."

"We're listening," Jack said, leaning forward to be sure he didn't miss a word.


	21. Chapter 21

Jack ended the call with Matty with a grumble. "The Monument has definitely been compromised. And it doesn't sound like they can clear the Mall with any certainty without tipping Death from Above either. There's some event going on. Matty's trying to pull the permit right now to find out what it is."

"Well, at least we know the Mall is the target from Badgely. Wish we knew how the hell the Organization plans to spread that virus through contact in the crowd. If it were airborne I'd be more worried about whatever Murdoc is up to, but, it's not.

Riley was on her laptop. "It's a vigil showing support for the abolition of the Electoral College. It's organized by a fifty state grassroots organization called 'One Citizen, One Vote'," she announced.

"How'd did you get that so fast?"

She shrugged. "Facebook. The Parks page has listings for all that stuff. It's a whole candlelight thing."

Mac swore under his breath and got his phone out to try to get Matty back on the line.

"What's up, Mac?" Jack asked, wondering what leap his partner had made that they hadn't gotten to yet.

"Vigil. Candles," was his only explanation before Matty picked up. "Matty, how are we doing on the Mall situation?"

"Not good. I'm still not clear ..."

"It's a voter rally thing. Candlelight vigil. Which means someone is going to be handing out candles, paper cups, and all that and ..."

"And they probably work for Nikki's people and are probably swabbed down with that virus."

"That's what I'm thinking, yeah."

"Okay. We know what we're looking for and the infectious disease experts are working on containment and producing more of the vaccine-treatment compound. Fortunately because the Director is back in the game we know what we're dealing with right down to the chemical formulas. So, I want you guys to come back in."

"What? Are you serious?" Mac snapped.

"You said it yourself, they want to use our reaction against us. Murdoc is texting you, baiting you to come out. You're obviously not their end game, but taking out the whole team is definitely part of what's on his agenda and the Organization will do it if they want to keep Murdoc happy. Which it appears they do, given what went down at Phoenix a few months ago."

Before Mac could continue Jack interrupted casually, "You sure you want to pull us, Matty? Who else you got ready to head in who knows Murdoc's garbage and has already got the vaccine on board?"

Mac threw Jack a grin. He wanted to be in this until the end, wanted to be the one to bring Nikki in this time. Leave it to Jack to know how important getting some closure on this case was to him.

Matty was silent for a minute. "Fine. But I'm sending back up. I'll have Todd head things up so you have a good communication liaison between you and the rest of the task force coming in."

"Sounds good, boss," Jack said, and took Mac's phone and ended the call before Matty could say anything else. "So, what do we do now?"

"Well, we don't want to start a panic. So ..."

Riley looked over her shoulder at them. "I think I have an idea."

0-0-0

Riley's plan to reach out on social media claiming that someone from the Electoral Preservation Society was going to try handing out candles that would stink up the vigil and that the cops had been tipped that it was OCOV just trying to cause trouble in the park had thinned out the crowd considerably. It made the people trying to hand out candles extremely obvious. Some of them were clearly legitimate, but that could easily be sorted out later. The combined efforts of the inter-organizational taskforce made rounding up people who had potentially been exposed a reasonably smooth operation. However, even from their position on the ground, Mac could see light and movement in the high window above the square.

"Have you got him, Jack?"

"Dead to rights," came the calm whispered answer in his earpiece. "I can't see what he's doin' though."

"Do you have a kill shot?" Riley sounded unusually cold.

"Yeah, I do."

"So take it!" she said vehemently. "His people could've killed you today, Jack. Could've killed all of us! Just take him out."

Jack thought that sounded like pretty good advice to him, but Mac said, "Wait. We don't know why he's up there, what he's got set up. What if you taking him out triggers something even worse than the infected candles."

"Like what?" Riley snapped.

"I don't know. That's the point," Mac said quietly. "Besides, it if he misses … sorry Jack but it does occasionally happen … there's nowhere to go but down. And any move you make could tip his people to your position on that staging and you'd have to bolt. Climbing down would leave you exposed. Besides," he paused knowing this would make Jack think twice before he acted, "I might need you up there."

"You're going in aren't you?" Jack asked. From the apprehension in his voice, Mac could picture his face perfectly.

"I kind of have to."

"It's what he wants, Mac," Jack warned, knowing it was probably pointless.

"Yeah, but that doesn't change anything. We've got to flush him out and maybe we can get him back into custody."

"Alright," Jack agreed. "Riles, you staying outside to be our eyes and ears?"

"Can do," she said, sitting down on the ground and adjusting the brightness on her rig as well as putting on the secondary comm that now connected her to the rest of the taskforce.

"Okay; I'm staying put, too Mac. If I don't like what I see through that window, I'm taking the shot. It's not the greatest position, so you do me a favor and don't get between him and my line of sight on the east side."

Mac had already started toward the door to the monument, passing through the ring of flags around the base. "I'll do my best."

0-0-0

The bottom floor of the monument was empty, just as Matty had told them. It was quickly apparent why. The bottom two stories of the stairs had been melted with something that generated a lot of heat. Thermite maybe. The air was still faintly smoky and metallic smelling. The elevator doors stood open, revealing that the car within had been destroyed, likely with something very similar to what had been used on the stairs. From where he stood in the thin drifting smoke Mac could see that the only way up to where Murdoc was waiting was via the maintenance access ladder.

His phone buzzed with a new text. "I'm waiting, MacGyver. I want to have a chat about the possibilities this evening offers. Do hurry."

He wasn't sure he should reply but he knew if Murdoc was expecting him it might delay whatever else he had planned. "I'm on my way up."

The reply was immediate. "The view is incredible. But watch your step; it looks like one heck of a drop."

Mac leaned in the door and looked up. Yeah, that would be a heck of a drop alright.

All 555 feet, his brain supplied helpfully.

"I really hate this guy," Mac mumbled.

"What was that, Mac?" Riley asked.

"Nothing." Mac sighed, picking his way over the debris from the elevator car and started climbing, eyes on the tiny dim square of light at the top of the elevator shaft.


	22. Chapter 22

"Mac?" Jack prompted over the comms. "Talk to me buddy; whatcha doin'?"

He was only about a third of the way up, but his arms and legs were already burning. Climbing a ladder was more work than it looked like, especially when combined with muscle-stiffening terror. "Going to talk to Murdoc, like I said."

"How come you sound like a puppy on a hot day?"

"What?" Then the fact that his breathing could be heard on the comms occurred to him. "Because I'm going up the only way he left me."

"Which is?"

"Service ladder in the elevator shaft."

"Dude," was all Jack had at the moment.

"Yeah, I'm not happy about it either, but here we are. At least it only leaves him with one way out, too."

"I guess. Ri, how we situated for backup?"

There was a pause before Riley answered. "Todd has Tactical preparing to take the lobby and the perimeter of the Monument. They should be in position in the next five."

Mac half-smiled in spite of himself. That left Murdoc with zero options for escape. Then he frowned. Murdoc never left himself with zero options. What the hell was he up to and why had he made finding him so easy? Whatever it was, Mac was sure that it was some sort of trap, but he didn't see a way out of this confrontation, not with a biological weapon in play. Mac looked up, gauging the distance to the light at the top. He was maybe halfway there now. He was exhausted and knowing how far he still had to go made him feel it more acutely. His foot slipped just a bit on the next rung and he gasped, clutching the ladder tightly as he reseated both feet firmly. He made the mistake of glancing down to check that he had good footing and froze as the world tilted wildly around him.

"Mac? Buddy? What's goin' on? Talk to me."

Mac swallowed hard and squeezed his eyes shut to try to still the panic-induced gyroscope in his head. He tried to answer Jack but his mouth was too dry, breathing was too difficult.

Jack recognized the ragged breathing for what it was. "Mac, buddy, you're okay. Just breathe through it, brother."

He didn't know why but the calm reassurance from his partner was all it took for the world to stop spinning and he tilted his head up to be sure there was no danger of catching a glimpse of the floor a couple of hundred feet below him and pried his eyes open again to look at his hands, white-knuckled on the rung in front of him. "I'm good," he panted. "I slipped a little."

"Don't rush yourself, kid. I know you're in a hurry to get off that ladder, but take your time. I don't want you fallin'."

 _Yeah, me either_ , he thought. _How could things possibly get worse tonight?_ He started climbing again, his eyes fixed on the rectangle of light still far above him. "You know what they say … It's not the fall that kills you."

"It's the sudden stop?" Riley broke in.

"No. It's your freaking heart exploding in your chest before you have a chance to reach terminal velocity," Mac knew the slight quaver in his voice betrayed his effort at cracking a joke, but Jack's appreciative chuckle over the comms made him feel a little better about it. "How's Tactical doing?"

"They're in position. Jack's position is decent. And there are patrols on the inner and outer perimeter. Whatever Murdoc or his handlers have planned, we're ready for anything … Except whatever he has waiting at the top …" Riley paused for a long moment. "Be careful, Mac."

"Hey, it's my middle name."

"And here I thought it was Danger," Riley teased and was pleased when he chuckled in response.

"Nope," Jack said. "It's definitely Henry. Because nothing says I want my kid to be a little old man like giving him a couple little old man names. At least it explains his fashion sense."

"Shut up, Jack." The banter did what it always did, brought his pulse down to something like normal and he could think clearly. A shadow passed over the light at the top. Like a monster waiting in a cave, and here he was climbing toward it. As he often did in less than ideal situations he let his near perfect memory distract him. He started thinking about a book he'd read in middle school called _The Eyes of the Dragon_. It was about a boy, a prince, who loses his mother, and not everyone who's left to take care of him wishes him well. His father is murdered and he is blamed and locked away in a tall tower, never to be heard from again while someone else lives the life that was meant to be his. At the time he didn't think about why it had resonated so deeply with him, but looking back on it now, especially after some decent therapy, it made a lot of sense. The end, which had given him nightmares for months and caused his grandfather to ban Stephen King books from the house, was that the prince was almost ready to escape and the one who was really responsible came back to kill the boy. He could hear the monster coming for him up the many stairs to his tower room, sure he was going to die and the only way to escape had been to try to climb down on a rope he wasn't sure could hold him. Why the hell was he climbing toward the monster now? Mac had dreamt of that freezing climb over and over again, only he was the prince in his dream, and the monster at the top … Mac slammed the door on that line of thinking. Whatever was coming, he needed his mind focused on it and he didn't have much farther to go now.

"Oh, Angus," the slippery voice oiled its way down the elevator shaft and felt like it was crawling over his skin. "You do look uncomfortable. Getting rid of the stairs wasn't very nice of me, was it?"

Mac didn't look up, just kept doggedly climbing, one rung at a time, more than two-thirds convinced Murdoc was going to shoot him and end this silly game that way, just so he could watch the look of terror on Mac's face as he fell to certain death.

"Now, I've been reading your updated file Angus. Unfortunately, cyber security isn't a terribly high priority in healthcare in this country, and your Dr. Miller does keep excellent detailed electronic notes of your sessions." Mac clenched his teeth so hard he thought they might crack. "So I'm surprised you're not feeling chattier. She notes that you are prone to over-explaining yourself, to talking your way out of dealing with problems when you are threatened or afraid. Since I imagine you feel both right now, I was expecting an earful."

Mac didn't answer, but heard Jack's voice quietly in his ear, "What's the psycho babbling about now?"

"You're the one who wants to talk, Murdoc. After the day I've put in, all I want to do is go home, maybe have a beer and catch the Cup playoffs," Mac replied, sounding perfectly casual. Since he still felt somewhat like he imagined a rabbit caught in a snare might, he was pretty pleased with himself.

Murdoc replied as Mac reached the top by placing his boot-clad feet in Mac's way, prohibiting him from getting off the ladder. "Well, I will try to keep this brief. I'd hate for you to miss the game for something so unimportant."

Mac gave him a cocky grin. "I appreciate that. Now, you planning to let me join you up there in your crow's nest, or should I just start climbing back down?"

Murdoc gave him a long look. All that therapy was certainly making him quippier. This should be immensely entertaining. He thought he'd made so much progress. Wouldn't it be fun to show him just how fragile he still was. "Oh, by all means. Come into my parlor," he invited, stepping aside.

Mac mentally added, "Said the spider to the fly." He carefully slid onto the floor just outside the open elevator doors, and propped himself up against the wall, letting his burning legs and arms rest for a minute. Then he got to his feet, holding his hands away from his body slightly so Murdoc could see that, as usual, he wasn't carrying a weapon. "So, you want to talk?"

Murdoc turned his back on him, as though he couldn't possibly be a threat. "Why don't we talk in the room with the view?" He headed toward the windowed room that tourists the world over flocked to for some reason that would probably always be elusive to MacGyver.

Mac shrugged and followed. "I always appreciate something pretty to look at when someone's going to try to kill me."

"Oh MacGyver, you are such a card," Murdoc chuckled as he glanced over his shoulder, thinking of how much fun it had been to get into this man's head. "Killing you isn't part of the plan any more. Where's the fun in that?"

 _I know what you're thinking. And you're right. Any idiot who asks how things could possibly get any worse deserves to find out._

Mac stepped through the door just after Murdoc and saw the vulpine smile on his adversary's face right before he realized the thick protective glass had been cut out of all of the windows and the plan became clear in an instant.


	23. Chapter 23

Mac looked around slowly, schooling his expression to convey a mix of apprehension and respect. "This is um … unexpected." He glanced at Murdoc who was looking like the cat that got the cream (well, actually, more like the constrictor that got the rat, but extremely satisfied, regardless). Then he thought a little back and forth might be good, keep the killer distracted. "I didn't think you went in for the whole mass murder, big payload kind of a kill."

Murdoc leaned casually against the wall near a window. Mac knew that just out of sight, on the scaffolding that had been meant for a massive cleaning project, Jack was positioned. That knowledge, combined with knowing Todd had Tactical prepared on the ground made him feel slightly more bold that he might have otherwise, but the complicated dispersal system that was wired up and aimed out each of the broken windows kept him cautious. Jack quietly asked, "What's he got in there, buddy?"

Mac did his best to subtly loop Jack in. "This is quite the setup, Murdoc. Droplet dispersal in every direction, coded activation … Based on the size of that motor, I'm guessing you could rain down whatever's in that tank for two hundred yards in either direction on a calm night like this. Is it the virus?"

Murdoc gave a single theatrical nod. "After a fashion ... You're right of course. This isn't my usual."

He paused walking around the room, passing uncomfortably close to Mac, moving with a dancer's grace and languid gestures that seemed choreographed to advertise the fact that he wasn't holding a gun. For the first time since stepping out of the elevator shaft a few minutes before, Mac felt personal unease and Jack whispered, "This isn't good, dude. You want me in there, just say the word."

"Well, you see, my employer has always been curious about you, since the very early days."

Mac raised his eyebrows. "Your employer? I thought I was a contract hit."

Murdoc gave him another knowing smile. "Exactly as you were meant to. They were somewhat hoping that implicating the lovely Miss Carpenter would drive you deeper into your somewhat obsessive search for her."

Mac cursed internally and clearly Murdoc had been standing close enough when he spoke for the mic to pick it up because Jack hissed, "See? She was in so deep she was never gettin' clean. Ask him about Thornton."

"So your bosses wanted me looking for her? Did they want to bring Thornton down?"

"My dear boy, why ever would I know about that? From the first moment I read your file, all I was interested was seeing how you would react."

Mac couldn't conceal a hard swallow. "You tried to kill me."

"Oh Angus, I wasn't supposed to try very hard. And by the time I'd decided that taking you out would be worth going against my orders, you'd managed your clever little tricks and caught me."

He shrugged and managed a smirk. "I'd apologize, but …" He was gratified to see the slight flash in Murdoc's liquid black eyes. "Were you ordered to only injure Thornton that day? That's been bugging me since she was arrested. If you worked for the same people, why shoot her at all?"

Murdoc now stood in front of Mac, definitely uncomfortably close. "When I put a bullet in someone, trust that it's where I wanted it to go, whether for my own reasons or those of the paying customers. Because while you were part of the old day job, I do like to keep myself entertained with little side project, you see."

"Okay," Mac said with as much irritation as he could muster, pressing himself against the wall without quite meaning to do it. He just wanted a breath of space between them. He had the same sort of feeling standing on a high ledge gave him.

"From your file I made the assumption that an attack on a parent figure would cloud your thinking, and because she was your mentor as an agent, I thought our lovely Patricia fit the bill. Of course, because of your strained relationship with your father, made some incorrect assumptions about your attachment to father figures in your life. I wish I'd shot Dalton instead. Could've spared myself months of boredom in your holding facility, I do believe."

Mac would admit any day of the week, to anyone other than Murdoc, that he cared about Jack, considered him family, probably more so than anyone else in his life, but the idea that he'd fall apart just because Jack was injured pissed him off in a way he couldn't quite articulate. "Like hell," he snapped; then he regretted it as something resembling satisfaction came back into Murdoc's reptilian eyes.

Enjoying his discomfort, but wanting a better look at MacGyver's whole face and posture, Murdoc finally took a measured step back. "I thought perhaps I'd finally get to see what that looked like when Miss Carpenter exposed you both to the virus as planned …"

"That was part of her orders?" Mac interrupted, quite unable to help himself. He knew she was bad, she'd admitted it (and he knew he'd have to deal with the tumultuous feelings that was causing at some point) but he'd hoped that some semblance of a moral compass were in play here, hoped that he hadn't been completely wrong about the sort of person she was capable of being.

Murdoc turned his back now and began fiddling with the controls on the contraption he'd set up here, high above the National Mall, crowded with tourists and now gawkers below. "Oh, don't sound so stricken, Angus. Because while she was doing a fine job up to a point, she 'turned yellow' as they say in those shoot 'em up movies our Jack likes to watch. Rest assured the cure he received was effective for _that_ version of the virus."

Mac stood up a little straighter, speaking for his own, as well as Jack's benefit. "There's another version of the virus?"

"What the hell?" Jack groused in his ear.

"That's what I'm here for." Murdoc turned and tipped an almost mischievous smile, gesturing at the tank on the floor. "Oh, don't look so surprised MacGyver. Viruses mutate naturally all the time. So what if we helped this one along a little?"

Mac swallowed again, trying to get a good look at the controls Murdoc had just finished toying with. He could see a timer, ticking down, but not what it said. "So why call me here at all? Why all the weird texts and the creepy card?"

Murdoc looked confused. "I only sent you four texts. Two to draw you here and two when you arrived. And card? Don't tell me you've been receiving some deliciously devious communications from someone other than your favorite nemesis."

Mac smirked, knowing what he was thinking was going to make his opponent angry and hoping that his irritation would pave the way for a mistake, "Nemesis. You sure do give yourself a lot of credit Murdoc." The dark eyes flashed, but Murdoc held his tongue. "So who sent all the other stuff?"

"Who do you think?"

"Nikki said she didn't do it."

Now Murdoc grinned, and it was the grin of a shark, full of nothing but death and pain at another's expense. "She shared your bed for years, Angus. She convinced decent members of DXS and then the CIA that she was on the right side. Then she nearly weaseled her way back into Phoenix. What makes you think she's ever been honest about anything that didn't serve her purpose?" He was pleased at the way Mac paled. He'd hoped the climb up here would unbalance him more than it had, but he would take his little digs where he could get them. "Now even the cure she supplied in a moment of real cowardice might just be worthless. And no matter what happens you won't know who to trust. Is Thornton guilty or innocent? What did Nikki lie about? Was any of it true at all? Who has been compromised by the Organization?"

"You know what?" Mac snapped. "That name just pisses me off. Why the hell would anybody call themselves …"

"Maybe because of what they do, who they are," Murdoc offered silkily. "The ordering, organizing force for a much larger mission than any of their various individual arms could possibly carry out …" He trailed off meaningfully.

Mac's brain felt like it might start smoking with conflicting thoughts and emotions at the moment, but he kept his face as neutral as he could. Decent members? "Are you implying that the Organization is called that because it coordinates moles across intelligence agencies? And why would you ..?"

Murdoc laughed, a sound like bones rattling around in a bag. "I can't control your inferences based on my casual comments. And I say what I like, to whomever I like, for my own reasons." He could see Mac's muscles tensing and knew he had very little time left. "Now, I'm about to give you an honest choice, Angus."

"Which is?" he asked tightly, readying himself to make a move, thinking that as far as his odds at hand to hand went, he could easily take Murdoc down. He was younger, stronger, fully trained at hand to hand, in better shape, and hadn't spent years relying on guns to do his work. "Well, you can take me into custody … Or you can disarm the device that will spread our mutated virus droplets all over the crowd below."

Mac dropped into a crouch, maneuvering to get between Murdoc and the door now that the problem was clear to him. "How 'bout I do both? Jack!" he called for backup as he made a grab for Murdoc's arm.

Murdoc danced back, revealing the timer. "Because you only have five minutes and there are three triggering mechanisms."

 _Of course there are._ "Jack!" he called again.

"I'm comin', I'm comin'. Whoa! The wind's pickin' up out here."

More wind plus that delivery system could cover way more ground. He had to disarm this system. But there was just no way he could let Murdoc walk either. The man clearly had extensive knowledge of the Organization. Too many lives were at stake to not consider succeeding on both fronts right down. Counting on Jack to get in through one of those open windows in time, Mac dove at Murdoc, sending both of them sliding across the floor in a tangle of limbs. Somewhere in their grappling match, and Mac could never piece together from where or how afterward, Murdoc pulled a short sharp knife. Mac saw its sheen just in time to avoid it being sunk into his guts, but it still sliced him pretty deeply up one side of his ribs. He swore and tried to get a grip on Murdoc's wrist as he slammed it into the floor.

"Jack!" he shouted again.

Still no sign of his partner, Mac could see there were only two and a half minutes left on the timer now. With no other obvious options, and on the basis of the success of his earlier 'Jack Dalton move' Mac headbutted his adversary as hard as he could, managing not to hurt himself too badly since years of soccer had coached him on using his head as a strategic weapon more than just intellectually. Murdoc grunted and went sprawling on the floor with his eyes closed in apparent unconsciousness. Mac quickly got to his knees to examine the controls, pulling his knife out of his pocket. The first mechanism was an easy classic red wire/blue wire situation. The second involved just cutting the power source. The third was a tangle of black wires, but Mac found the ground after a tense fifteen seconds or so. He had just raised his scissors to snip the wire when a flash of movement caught the corner of his eye. Murdoc was about to slip out the door. "Jack!" he called again, in frustration and worry, but when his partner didn't answer he just took another dive at Murdoc, not even pausing to think about whether he'd have time to cut that last wire.

Unfortunately, Murdoc hadn't let go of his knife and Mac barely had time to realize it was buried in his shoulder, right in his old faint scar, before he was on his knees, gasping in pain with his vision greying around the edges. Murdoc disappeared into the hallway just as Jack hauled himself in through the broken window, bleeding from making his way in over large shards of broken safety glass.

"Mac!" Jack started to drop down next to Mac, but Mac shook his head.

"Go get the bastard!" came out as something in between a plea and a demand and Mac made his way shakily back to the console on the dispersal unit.

10

9

8

His left arm didn't really want to work.

7

6

His right hand was shaking badly from adrenaline and pain, too.

5

4

He wasn't sure he wasn't about to pass out either.

3

2

 _Angus, you are my little superhero, you know that, don't you?_

1

Snip. It was done.

 _Because that's what it all comes down to, doesn't it? When you think you can't go on, you do. Because even if they don't know it, someone is depending on you to do the right thing._

Mac sunk down onto the floor, trying to flex his left hand, and more than a little disappointed with his results. He glanced down at himself. The knife still stuck out of his shoulder at an odd angle and he could see the blood soaking through his shirt from there and the slice along his ribs.

The room was starting to spin and dim a little, but he did his best to keep his eyes open.

 _I know they say history repeats itself, but this is getting ridiculous. Although if it's true, right about now …_

"Hey bud, where'd he get ya?"

"Hey Jack," he whispered. Then he gave Jack a slightly wry smile. "I thought the handle sticking out of me would give it away."

"Very funny. Riley, how we doin' on getting us outta here?" he asked clearly following up on a conversation he'd been having outside Mac's presence. Mac realized his comm had gotten pulled out. Jack lifted the hem of his shirt and took a look at the wound in his side, then he inspected the knife still wedged into his shoulder more closely, before answering a question Mac couldn't hear. "I think he'll be alright that long, but tell them to drag their asses."

"Did you get Murdoc?" was all Mac was interested in at the moment.

"Let's worry about him later, kiddo. You did real good." Jack settled onto the floor next to Mac, pressing a wadded up cloth he'd grabbed from somewhere into the wound on Mac's side, making his friend gasp.

 _He got away. Damn it._

Mac's eyes, very much against his will, drifted closed.


	24. Chapter 24

Later, Mac thought idly that he wished he could have just stayed passed out, not so much because he hurt, but because wakefulness was so unpleasant during their rescue. Because the ladder was basically vertical and was hundreds of feet from top to bottom, the only real way out for someone too injured to climb down on their own was by helicopter and it turned out that the windows were just a bit too small to get a stretcher into. Mac's brain was pretty firmly anti-sleep, so even injury- (including minor concussion) induced unconsciousness was fairly short lived. He roused himself to find Jack trying to figure out how to get him out onto the staging so the two of them could be airlifted out to … somewhere Mac missed. "Jack, what's going on," he asked, more to get Jack's attention than because he wanted to know.

When Jack turned back toward him Mac felt himself pale. All the glass Murdoc had broken out had clearly been in the frame of the window and on the platform balanced on the staging just outside, because Jack looked like he'd gotten in a fight with _Edward Scissorhands_ (a film Mac might never forgive Jack for making him watch). "Just tryin' to get you outside without hurtin' you more, bud."

Mac used his good arm to force himself up to a sitting position, wincing and panting in pain in spite of his best efforts, and having to close his eyes against a wave of nauseating dizziness as he got upright. "I can get out there on my own if I need to, Jack. It's not too bad." Jack's face was the picture of calling bullshit, but knowing Mac like he did, he just went over and helped his friend get slowly to his feet. No matter how Mac might want to protest, he didn't shake off Jack's support as they made their way over to the broken window. As Jack prepared to climb out first, Mac could feel him shaking just a little. He started to ask, "Jack, how bad ..?"

"I'll be alright," Jack interrupted, climbing out first and brushing as much glass out of Mac's way as he could.

Mac steadied himself on the sill for a minute and then made the mistake of looking out onto the platform. It was shaking with the thrum of the helicopter blades rotating not too far above them, and spread out in the blackness like diamonds on a jeweler's dark velvet, were the lights of the city, far, far below. Mac stomach performed an unpleasant flip and his knees wanted to give way. Then he looked at Jack's bloody arms, prepared to support him, carry him if necessary, and just took a deep breath and climbed out, as careful as he could be to not jostle his impaled shoulder. He was almost all the way clear when his arm connected with the edge of the stone square he was climbing out of. He knew he screamed, but he didn't really hear it. He knew Jack grabbed him before he could teeter off the edge of the narrow platform, but it was more the warm slick feel of the blood covering Jack's arms than the precipitous drop in front of him that Mac recalled later. He remembered the medic in the helicopter offering something for the pain, and his own small smile just after he and Jack said, "No morphine!" at the same time. He also remembered as his eyes closed from whatever it was they did give him, Jack saying, "I meant for him. He hates the stuff. Me … I'm pretty much down with it since somebody's gonna be picking glass outta my hide for the next day and a half."

0-0-0

Mac knew he was in a hospital from the hushed but busy sounds around him before he ever opened his eyes. He gave a resigned little sigh as he opened his eyes to find Jack snoring softly in the chair beside his bed, wearing borrowed scrubs, too many bandages to count, and the mask of fatigue that only someone who'd been up far too long, doing far too much could possibly have. Mac looked around his room to clear the cobwebs from his brain and orient himself a little. A heavy plastic curtain hung between the room and the door beyond. So … quarantine. That was actually kind of a good sign. It meant that the taskforce was still trying to determine if the canister in the Monument had been breached in any way. So he hadn't been out of it for very long. Twelve hours was usually the max for those sorts of investigations. He was sure it was that, because if they'd actually been exposed, Jack would be in another bed somewhere and both of them would be surrounded by medical staff. This room and Jack's snoring wasn't exactly his ideal wake up call, but the alternative was a lot less attractive. Part of him wanted to let the exhausted and injured Jack sleep, but the other part, the intellectual part that more often than not really ran the show needed to know exactly what happened after Murdoc stabbed him and Jack gave chase. Mac reached out his right hand, glad that only his left side was encumbered by bandages or IVs, and he smiled to find Jack's hand resting next to him on his bed. He brushed Jack's fingers to see how deeply asleep he was. Jack immediately snorted himself awake, and even though he was moving pretty stiffly, he sat right up and gave Mac a big grin.

"Hey there, brother. Awake already?"

Mac grinned back, if still a little sleepy. "Well, you _were_ snoring."

"How ya feelin'?"

"Like I let the bad guy get away," Mac said, as he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes with his free hand and started searching around for the remote he knew was around there somewhere to reposition his bed. He hated using it, but just sitting up on his own was out of the question. There was only so good non-narcotic pain relief could be and the dull ache in his shoulder and all along his side told him he was in for a rough few days until things really started knitting back together on their own.

Jack leaned toward him. "Don't be so hasty with your conclusions, brother."

Mac was in the middle of raising his bed into a sitting position and he nearly dropped the remote. "You got him?"

Jack shook his head. "I didn't say that." Mac's face fell. "But I clipped him." Jack ran a hand through his short hair, wincing as the movement pulled on some stitches in a long cut that ran nearly from his wrist to his elbow. "We still don't know how the hell he got outta the building. We can only find one way in or out, but Todd picked up a blood trail not too far off and we believe he's holed up in an old decommissioned subway tunnel. It's barricaded and booby trapped to hell, but we still have a shot at …"

"He's still in the city? We have to go and .."

Jack's sympathetic smile interrupted him before he could finish and he just trailed off. "Don't tell me you missed the quarantine curtain, bud."

"I was hoping maybe they were repainting," he had to grin a little at the look on Jack's face. It turned to a frown very quickly. "They don't think we …"

"Precaution. But believe you me, if one of us sets foot outside this room before we get the all clear, it won't take security to tie us back up in here, 'cause Matty Webber will do it herself."

Even though he was already lying back against the pillow, Jack thought he could see Mac slump further into the bed. He thought the only other time he'd seen him look half that dejected was way back in the base hospital at Bagram after they'd rescued Mac's buddy Thompson and he said so. Mac looked a tiny bit sheepish and said, "Yeah, well I don't like being out of commission before the mission is resolved." He saw Jack's teasing grin starting at the corners of his lips and beat him to his next comment. "And I definitely don't like being in one of these places ever. Where the hell are we, by the way?"

Jack shrugged. "Walter Reed. They were best prepared to offer a secure floor for the quarantine and still see to injuries quickly."

"Ugh. Military hospitals," Mac groaned.

Jack grinned again and patted his arm. "This should be old hat for you by now, bud. But let me be clear, you need to stay put for all the usual reasons, plus a few unusual ones, too. Forget containment enforcement personnel. Goin' against Matty's orders would be way worse than Peyna back in Bagram. She will kick your trash all over this place for real and she don't care how bad you're hurt, just that you follow her orders right now. 'Though she be but little, she is fierce'."

Mac chuckled, and sucked in his breath and pressed his free hand against the bandages along his ribs. "Ow. Quit being funny, Jack. Or I am definitely telling her you said that. Of course, I'm also going to tell her that you memorized a Shakespeare quote thinking about her. That's pretty interesting. Or at least I'm betting Matty will think so."

"Mac, I swear to …"

0-0-0

When young Mac came back to himself after blacking out (as far as he knew) on the ground near the terrorist encampment, he was lying in a hospital bed, wired up like a car radio, with big soft brown eyes staring down into his slightly panic-clouded blue ones. "Hey, Mac, you're okay. You're safe, man," a husky voice said with warm, albeit slightly desperate, reassurance. It sounded like maybe he'd been repeating that for a while.

Mac's eyes searched his face wildly for a moment. "J-J-Jack?" he asked hesitantly.

"You bet, bud. I'm right here now."

"Okay," he acknowledged, his breathing a little rapid. "I'm okay."

Mac took in the way the man's face puckered as he eased himself down into the chair next to Mac's bed. Then he realized that, although Jack wasn't in bed hooked up to a whole pile of tech and fluids like he was, he was, in fact, wearing a matching hospital gown, and the thin white robe that seemed to be every hospital's only concession to people who weren't inclined to run around half naked.

Mac groaned softly, then asked, "How's the leg?"

Jack's eyes squeezed shut for a breath. The he grinned, "Not bad at all. You'd make a helluva field medic apparently. How 'bout you? How ya doin'?"

Mac made an effort at a smile, wanting to assuage the concern he could see in the older man's eyes, but it turned into a grimace. "I feel pretty awful," he admitted honestly as he started searching around for a way to raise the bed.

"Yeah, well, I figured you would, wakin' up in a hospital."

Mac shrugged, then offered with forced optimism, "There are worse places to wake up, I guess." Jack nodded, thinking Mac must not remember their long talk on the way here. Mac reached up and ran a hand over his forehead in an almost frustrated gesture. "I'm all twitchy like …" he trailed off, picking absently at the tape securing the IV port to the back of his left hand.

"Yeah, sorry about that, Mac," Jack apologized, leaning forward to put the remote for the bed into the kid's good hand, more to keep it busy with something other than the tape than because he thought the kid ought to be sitting up. He had to smile at the way the tired blue eyes lit up when he got the bed to cooperate with his wishes. "I guess you were in a lotta pain when you were coming around from surgery, but you weren't real with it. They were cleanin' up my leg or I woulda told 'em not to, but they gave you some morphine. Should be wearing off soon."

Mac's feet were wiggling under the blankets and he was already fidgeting with the remote Jack had handed him, looking around the room with curiosity and a fair amount of speculation in his eyes. Jack got up and started limping back over to the bed that was between Mac and the door, thinking that from the look on the kid's face, somebody better be there, at least until his CO gave him a well-deserved chewing out and made it clear that the only way he better leave was with express orders. Jack had already smoothed things over while Mac slept, but he agreed with the people in charge of Mac's unit that the kid needed a little lesson in who was qualified to make life or death decisions over here before the boy got himself killed. "Better get back to bed before the doc on duty comes and yells at me. She's real pretty, but I think she missed her calling. She'da been a hell of a drill sergeant," Jack chuckled. "Doctors are bossy. Officers are even worse. Put the two together and it's a force even I'm not dumb enough to argue with."

When Dr. Henderson came by a little while later, she proved Jack right by tolerating absolutely no back talk from either one of them about anything including taking their prescribed pain medication. So when Peyna came along after checking on Thompson down the hall and chewed Mac a new one, Jack was mellow enough that he had a hard time not grinning at the look on the kid's face and even Mac, who blushed furiously over his CO's disapproval, still wasn't as chastened as if he'd been completely in command of his faculties. Two days later when Jack was discharged, he negotiated with the doc on Mac's case to have Thompson relocated into the bed he was vacating so Mac would have company to distract him (and to make sure he stayed put, despite the nightmares that bled through even heavy medication and an obvious desire to bolt on general principles). Mac had looked up at Jack, an almost accusatory expression on his face. "You're going on a mission? With your leg still healing?"

Jack patted his good shoulder, shifting his weight off his bad leg, pretending it wasn't bothering him at all. "Yeah, but it shouldn't be anything for you to worry too much about, kid. And I'll be back to see how you're doing, probably tomorrow morning."

Mac nodded, not quite meeting Jack's eye as he wished him luck. As Jack was about to leave the room, Mac called, "Be careful, Jack."

Jack gave him a crooked grin. "Never."

Mac shook his head, smiling in spite of himself and as Jack closed the door behind himself, Mac mumbled for the first of thousands of times, "Jackass."


	25. Chapter 25

Fortunately or unfortunately the mission the Delta team had gone out on stretched longer than they'd anticipated and by the time Jack returned a couple of days later, Mac had gone back to work at the base further north, albeit on restricted duty. Jack found him sitting at a desk frowning, typing one handed on an ancient desk top. He sat with one leg bouncing up and down and the hand that was held to his chest by a secure sling playing with a paperclip, probably from the papers that were scattered around in front of him. "Hey there, Hollywood. Did you stage another daring escape?"

Mac looked up surprised and after a second a grin brightened his whole face. "Jack!" Then he took in the sling that bound Jack's right arm and his face clouded with a look of concern. "What happened?"

Jack moved to the chair next to the desk and Mac could see that he was still limping although the man was clearly doing his best to hide it. He eased himself down into his seat, supporting himself with his good arm as he did so. "Got my dumb ass shot again." Mac's eyes widened and Jack just grinned, wanting to ease the kid's worry. "Twice in one week. Punchy says if I keep it up he's gonna just paint a target on all my clothes."

Mac narrowed his eyes at the older man. Jack could kid all he wanted, but a bullet wound, even a graze, was no laughing matter when it came to complications and infections. Statistically, anyway. "You okay?"

"Hell, boy, if all it took to keep me down was a little ole ding on the elbow, I'da used this pretty face to be model instead of the world's biggest badass." Mac grinned, in spite of his concern and shook his head. Jack's face turned more serious. "What about you? When I left, the doc said probably ten more days before you'd get back to base."

Mac shrugged, winced as a result, and shrugged again, quite unable to help making the gesture even though it hurt like hell. He didn't quite look at Jack when he answered, "I got discharged early." He quickly added, "I'm only allowed to do paperwork at the moment and it sucks, but it's a helluva lot better than being poked and prodded and kept in bed!"

Jack gazed at the young man with a frustrated inexplicable affection. He was starting to understand the way his own dad had looked at him the last time he'd been home when they'd had that godawful fight. He wished like hell he had the guts to call the bastard and tell him so, too, but he just didn't. Not yet. Instead he decided to focus on Mac. "What I heard when I showed up at the hospital was you were a pain in the ass and meds don't work the way they're supposed to on you. More or less, you annoyed them into letting you leave instead of staying and healing up like we agreed when I said I'd help you keep your ass out of trouble. Sound about right?"

Mac looked away quickly and swallowed hard, then gave Jack a steady glare. "No!" His eyes flicked away again. "I mean … I didn't mean to …" Mac ventured another glance at Jack's face, expecting disapproval, but saw only amusement.

Jack grinned at him so the kid would know he wasn't really angry. "I'm just givin' you shit, kid."

"How's Ricky doing?" Mac asked partially out of a desire to get the attention off himself, but mostly from genuine concern, disappointed that he couldn't visit his younger friend, but not so much that he'd been interested in occupying the bed next to him one second longer than he needed to.

Jack was thoughtful. "He's okay. Pneumonia is clearing up. I'd feel worse that he got it from being treated like a goldfish at a county fair if we hadn't gotten the guy who took off and brought him in for some enhanced interrogation of his own."

Mac's eyes flashed. "You went back out there? And when you say interrogation, you mean treating him like they treated us! You know that just encourages them and …"

"It doesn't encourage anything. It gets us information," Jack interrupted Mac's diatribe. "Were you inclined to tell them what they wanted to know when they asked nicely?"

Mac answered hotly. "They didn't give me a chance to …"

Jack held up a hand. "You and I both know you're too stubborn to just do what anybody wants you to do, or I'd have found you right back in that bed in Bagram so I could give you this." Jack fished in his back pocket with his good hand and withdrew, much to Mac's surprise, his Swiss Army knife. It was unmistakably his; all the faded markings and scratches were as familiar to him as his own reflection.

Mac snatched it up, elated. "Jack! Thank you! Where did you ..?"

"In the cave," Jack interrupted. "On the ground not two feet from where I found you. Zahir must've dropped it. I cleaned it up. There was blood all over it; mostly on the long blade and the corkscrew." He gave Mac a hard look and saw the way the kid's breathing had picked up.

He didn't own up to it being his blood, didn't confirm that he'd been tortured with the knife that meant so much to him. "Thanks for bringing it back to me," was Mac's almost whispered reply as he slipped it into his pocket. "You could've just mailed this. There's been a lot of ground to air activity this week. What made you risk a flight up here?"

Jack was looking him over carefully. The kid still definitely belonged in a hospital, or at least confined to barracks on sick call, but Jack wasn't in charge of him at the moment. Might as well find out if the kid was amenable to the new arrangement. "Well, yeah, sure. I coulda mailed it. If I didn't have business here." Mac tilted his head in a question, not wanting to interrupt. "I got six months left in the hitch I agreed to. I'm kind on loan from my real gig at CIA." Mac's eyes went just a little wide. "I used to do this full time all the time, back in the day. Like way back. When you were born way back." Jack smiled. "I was a Desert Storm guy once upon a time. And I was doing some training for Delta when they asked me back for a short job. Just kind got sucked in and made a deal for a big bonus." He paused. "See, I know I told ya, me and my old man, we don't talk." Mac gave a little nod, a shadow passing over his face as he thought about his own paternal demons. "But he's kinda sick and my mom is about at the end of her rope because it's not all covered by the VA and whatever. I just wanted to help. Even if he won't talk to me."

"I'm sorry," Mac said quietly, although for what he couldn't have put words to.

"Anyhow, I got a few months left on my deal and I was talkin' to your higher ups a little. You and Pickles are just the most recent in a long line of our guys getting taken prisoner lately. And the Terrys seem to have a real hard-on for EOD guys." Mac just nodded, trying not to narrow his eyes against the pain. He'd been at this desk about five hours now and, sling or no sling, all the sitting was starting to get to his bad shoulder. "And our guy, Alfred … Well, he went on leave a couple months ago; and he and his wife have been tryin' to have a baby for years. Anyway, they hit the jackpot while he was home. He just found out and resigned his commission."

"Oh." Mac said. "Wow. That's great. I mean, not for your team, but … A kid? Good for them."

"So anyhow, I got me a hole in my squad. Since the work is dangerous, someone might, if they were encouraged to do so, see that assignment as disciplinary. And my boss tells me you got a CO who'd like to get you outta Dodge for a few months while people forget you got a penchant for disobeying orders." Mac was frowning, but Jack thought he had it figured out anyway, so he finished bluntly, "I'm here to offer you a job with my team for a little bit."

Mac's face lit up. "Really?!"

Jack made himself look serious, even though he wanted to grin like a kid who's found out it's pizza day in the cafeteria. "Yeah. Whadaya think? Wanna be our bomb guy?"

"I … Yeah … I mean … Yes, sir." Mac half stood even though he didn't know what Jack needed him to do next. Then he seemed to realize it. "Um, do I need to pack up, or ...?"

Jack gave him a somewhat reluctant smile. "Yeah, ya do. For a trip back to Bagram. We operate out of there as a home base … and I'm sorry to tell you kid, but if you want to roll out with my team, even if it's just as a loaner, you're gonna need legit medical clearance, not just them passing you off so someone else can put up with you. Our usual doc is pretty well versed in dealing with stubborn."

The frown and eye roll Mac gave him would become familiar expressions in the years to come.

0-0-0

"I did not roll my eyes at you," Mac chuckled.

Jack grinned back, "You definitely did. And if you'd had two arms to use at the time you'd've been doing pushups for it until you collapsed. I don't take that kind of sass from subordinates, as a rule."

"Good thing we're equals now then," Mac teased and gave a deep roll of his eyes. He was rewarded with a genuine laugh from Jack, which he thought was good. Jack was looking at him with more than his usual amount of worry, and Mac knew why, he just didn't want to talk about it at the moment, so he decided to keep talking so he was in control of the conversation. "Hey, I don't suppose you know where my clothes are?"

This time Jack rolled his eyes. "You don't need to bother about gettin' dressed at the moment, Mac …"

"No, that's not what I meant." Although that had sort of been exactly what he'd meant, he wasn't going to admit it. Jack was hovering on the cusp of using his disapproving eyebrows. "We were talking about it so ... I was just wondering about my knife. It's kind of an antique so I just wanted to put it somewhere safe. It was in my jeans."

Jack looked truly regretful. "I'm sorry, bud, I think the CDC people incinerated all the stuff we came in wearing as a precaution."

"Crap." Mac frowned. "I've had that thing since I was six. And whenever I've lost it, it's always come back."

Jack grinned knowingly. "It's your good luck charm."

Mac smirked, trying to wipe the dejected expression he could feel off his face. "There's no such thing as luck, Jack."

"We'll see," Jack said quietly as a fully suited-up nurse came in through the curtain to get updated blood samples for the lab and did her best to start an argument with Mac through her authoritarian demeanor.

Eventually he'd just cooperated to get rid of her, a decision Jack approved of, especially since it was generally his approach to dealing with medical types at all. Give 'em what they want and they'll go the hell away. More out of boredom than anything else, Jack took a nap, half expecting to be woken up by getting hit with a pillow and yelled at for snoring too loudly. What actually woke him up was Mac's surprised, but very pleased exclamation, "Steve! What are you doing here?"

Jack peeled his eyes open to see the tall man, who was not dressed in a protective suit but rather plain green scrubs, brushing aside the plastic curtain and securing it behind the door he had pushed all the way open. "Matty thought it might be helpful to have a team member that speaks the language deal with the infectious disease folks. She also thought you guys would appreciate me stepping in on your cases and managing your care."

"How're Lanney and the baby?" Jack asked, smiling.

"Good. Really good. Zeb's such a pleasant little fella, already sleeping through the night more or less. I was thinking it was time to get back to work anyway. Then Matty called."

Mac's eyes had already zeroed in on the bags their medic was carrying; their duffle bags as well as clear plastic ones which clearly contained their personal belongings that had been removed when they'd been admitted. So their stuff hadn't been incinerated. He reached out his good hand for his. It was not immediately turned over to him and he gave an elaborate frown. "Steve, c'mon."

Mac got a very knowing look in return. "That's Dr. Rodgers to you at the moment, Agent MacGyver." He did put the bags down at the foot of Mac's bed, and the young man immediately started digging through the plastic one, only partially paying attention now. "You guys are officially in the clear from that canister, fortunately. I did manage to save most of your belongings and Riley brought over the rest of your stuff from the van. But … And I want to be clear … you're not just hopping out of bed and taking off for midtown to go after Murdoc. I need to sign your discharge papers and I'm not just …"

Mac only heard part of what he said, mostly because he was grinning at having located his Swiss Army knife. He hadn't lost it. Which was good; he might need it soon. "So the old subway line he's holed up in is in midtown?"

Jack chuckled. "It's a losing battle, Steve. You've told him where the bad guy is. Either give him his clothes or knock his ass out. My boy just found his good luck charm. All bets are off. If you don't discharge him, you and I both know he'll find a way out and be in that subway tunnel in an hour anyway."

Mac rolled his eyes at Jack; then he raised his eyebrows at Steve. "Forty-five minutes. Tops."

Steve gave a long suffering sigh. He didn't think Matty was going to be very pleased. "Fine. But I'd like to not get fired. I'm checking you both over first."

Mac was already picking at the tape on the back of his hand. "No, first you're getting rid of this IV."

Jack chuckled and grabbed his bags from Steve. Mac needed to finish this case. Jack would worry about getting the kid to take it easy and heal up from his most recent injuries, physical and emotional, when he got him home. "Do like the man says, buddy. It's easier in the long run." He headed into the bathroom. "Besides, once we catch Captain Creepy and get him back to Phoenix's holding facility, you can confine Mac to the infirmary for a couple of days to recover."

Mac glared at his retreating form and called, "That's not even funny Jack!"


	26. Chapter 26

The subway tunnel was filled with a quavering blue light that reminded Mac of those aquariums where the tank was above and around you. Not unlike wandering through one of those aquariums, Mac's eyes darted around trying to catch a glimpse of the predator he knew was concealed in some shadow nearby. Every once in awhile he could feel the subway line that was running parallel to this old one vibrate the walls and little pieces of debris would crumble. He was glad Riley had stayed back at the staging area with Matty, attempting to crack Nikki's laptop that had been recovered from the hotel room where she'd been keeping _Bethlehem_ and provide them with technical backup if it was needed; she wasn't a fully trained field agent just yet and this felt as dangerous as any situation he'd ever found himself in. He stumbled slightly on some loose gravel and it sent a jolt through his injured side and shoulder. Glancing around at Jack and the small multi-agency tactical squad Todd had assembled, he was satisfied no one had noticed his sharp intake of breath. He gave Steve a second look just to be sure. Their medic had been glaring at him a fair amount since he'd insisted on being on the team going after Murdoc and had irritated the doctor further by refusing a sling because he needed both hands free. He casually slid his left hand into his jacket pocket, just to rest it and not have the injured muscles, ligaments, and tendons supporting its full weight for a few minutes. It also put gentle pressure against the wound in his side which offered a little relief from the throbbing that walking was causing there. He couldn't quite keep his posture casual though and he figured Jack would say something but he didn't. He turned his head to see what was taking up Jack's attention and saw the older man just staring straight ahead as they moved forward, a fine mist of sweat breaking out on his forehead. Mac stepped a little closer so no one else would hear him.

"Jack, are you okay?" Jack glanced at him but didn't say anything, just gave him a slightly derisive snort. Mac knew the man had to be in pain. His injuries had been significant too, even if most of the cuts were shallow. There had been a lot of them. "You look like you're gonna faint. If you need to go get back on more pain meds, no one is going to say anything. You looked like hamburger before they sewed you up."

Jack answered, his voice even lower than Mac's. "I'm fine. MYOB, kid."

"Seriously? You're telling me to mind my own business about an injury … I swear I will rat you out to Steve so fast …"

"Mac, it's not that. Okay?" Mac frowned, not quite believing him. "I told you a long time ago I got a thing about bein' underground. And right now we're underground with a guy who definitely wants us dead and is probably holdin' a special kinda grudge for me since I busted a cap in him last night. I don't much mind the idea of bein' blowed up, but blowed up and buried in a subway, well, that kinda sets my teeth on edge."

"Oh." Mac rifled through his memories of the few occasions where Jack had let him know he was actually human and maybe not made of steel. He did recall Jack saying he was terrified of being buried alive once when that's what was actually happening to them. At the time Mac had passed it off as Jack just chattering to deal with stress and maybe encourage him to come up with a solution double time, but the real discomfort on his partner's face told him that wasn't just talk, it was a real fear that in their line of work he didn't actually have to face that often. "So head back topside," he offered. "There's a whole tac team here. There's no shame in cutting out if it's bothering that much."

"Yeah right, like you just cut out when you were facing down that ladder last night?"

Mac glanced at Jack and felt his cheeks warm at the admiring expression his friend was wearing. Then he shook his head. They were both too stubborn for their own good. No wonder they bickered so much. "Fair enough. But I'm not going to let us get stuck down here. I promise."

Todd stepped next to Jack. "What are you two yammering about?"

"Nothin'," Jack said. "Just givin' my boy a hard time for walkin' out of the hospital without a sling."

Mac glared at him, but caught the slightly plaintive look in Jack's eyes and let it go. Instead he spoke to Todd. "This is making me nervous. We're most of the way back to where you tracked our package but so far I haven't seen any evidence of booby traps."

Todd nodded. "The tac team cleared most of them out early this morning while you guys were still in the hospital." Todd paused. "It's this last bit we were hoping you could take a look at."

They turned a corner and MacGyver and Jack both mumbled the foulest curse each of them knew, respectively. Jack raised an impressed eyebrow at Mac, breaking the tension and causing both of them to chuckle. From floor to ceiling the tunnel looked like it was partially collapsed and partially built in with all manner of doors and boxes and bombs, like something salvaged from a strange deadly trash heap. Unfortunately the trash heap also included a fair number of visible wires, explosives, timers, and buttons. It was rigged to blow impressively. Mac stepped out in front of everyone, slowly taking in the whole structure.

"This didn't happen when Murdoc got away last night …" Mac frowned looking around. "Where are we right now? Any of you guys got GPS?"

Jack stood next to Mac now and asked quietly, "What're you thinking, bud?"

"Retreating here was convenient for Murdoc, but he didn't just throw this together to keep us from pursuit. This took months of work."

Jack nodded. It was an impressive structure. And a lot of explosives. "But what are you ..?"

From an old conductor's speaker somewhere overhead Jack was interrupted by a disembodied voice. "Oh, MacGyver … I knew you couldn't resist looking for me yourself."

Mac took a deep breath. Verbal games were this psycho's currency. Playing extended the game, buying Mac time to think. "You sound surprised, Murdoc," he called out. "I know for a fact you think you're irresistible." He whispered to Todd, "Any luck with the GPS?"

Todd gestured that he was still working on a signal. Mac went on, "Why let us follow you, Murdoc? If you knew we were going to find you, why not just turn yourself in and get medical care. I'm guessing you've got a pretty serious pneumothorax and you're probably starting to run the risk of pulmonary embolism, too." The trail of blood droplets on the floor was denser here and Mac could see spay on some of the walls like someone had been coughing up blood. That didn't bode well for his adversary making it to trial or even as far as apprehension at the moment. "We could help. We've got a medic with us right now."

"You're good MacGyver. So are you Jacky-boy. Single shot right to the chest. I'm quite certain that I'm dying. I thought why not take you boys with me?"

There was a series of beeps and the timers all over the makeshift wall sparked to life and instead of flashing 00:00 all began counting down from 10:00. "Son of a bitch!" Mac snapped as he moved to get eyes on the specific devices and their connections. "Riley! Can you help us get a signal down here."

"Been working on it, Mac," came the hasty reply. "I think I've got a lock on your phone, actually." There was a pause. "It looks like you're in the tunnel near the newer Blue line route … right near East Capitol and 1st."

Mac paled as his suspicion was confirmed. "Remember, remember," he murmured quietly.

"What was that, buddy? Did I just hear you quote V for Vendetta?"

"No … I … Sort of." Mac gestured to the rest of the team. "I need everybody who's not an explosive ordnance disposal expert to get out of here. Now!"

Everyone looked at him for a moment, but something in his eyes kept anyone from protesting or even asking real questions and the team moved to obey. Steve hesitated, taking a step toward Mac as the injured man started to shed his jacket and get out his pocket knife, while also raising Matty and Riley on the comms to begin an evacuation of the building above. "I meant especially you, Rodgers," Mac snapped. "Clear out. You've got a baby at home and you're still supposed to be on leave anyway. I'm not letting you leave Zeb an orphan. Got it?"

Steve was going to reply, but Todd shook his head. He knew this look, had seen it on his own team's tech in the desert back in the day. Whatever he was thinking this was, it wasn't good.

Mac was standing at the foot of the bomb wall taking in the whole thing with eyes that were just a little too wide and beginning to work out the tangle of triggers. He glanced to his side. "You, too, Jack."

Jack shook his head, one side of his lips tilting up almost reluctantly. "We're not gonna have this fight again. I'm with you till the end, partner, and you know it." Mac closed his eyes for a second and then just went back to what he'd been doing, knowing that trying to get Jack to leave his side was about as useful as talking to a brick wall. "Now what were you mumbling a minute ago? I didn't think you half paid attention when we watched that movie."

Mac almost smiled as he clipped a wire. "I don't know Jack, I kinda liked that one. You know I have a soft spot for cool bombs." Jack was looked for a way to help, but like a lot of what Mac did, this tangle of wires and tech and death was gibberish to him. "It's from a famous poem about Guy Fawkes. He tried to blow up the King and Parliament in 1605."

"So Murdoc is trying to blow up Parliament, Mac? Steve said you had a concussion, but …"

"Jackass," Mac actually grinned. "The address Riley gave me … We're right under Congress. The Organization has obviously been planning this for months."

"God damn," was all Jack could think to say for a minute.

"The virus had to be a backup plan. We just tumbled to it first." Mac paused in his frenzied attempts to disarm so many devices at once, suddenly really glad he hadn't tried to force Jack to leave. "Do you have your multi-tool?" Jack nodded. "Okay, I think we can take down this last series with just these two separate detonators, but we're going to need to cut them at exactly the same moment." He indicated a spot about ten feet away from where he was and Jack went and stood in front of it.

"Or what?"

Mac swallowed, "Or I lied about not getting us buried down here." Jack inhaled and exhaled slowly, then nodded. "The red wire, closest to the copper lead on that orange box just to your right. On three."

Mac positioned his wire cutter in the correct spot and watched Jack do the same. When his partner nodded that he was ready, Mac started to count, "One, two." He and Jack both took a breath and held it. Neither of them noticed, but it was something Mac always did before making a final cut just like Jack always did it before squeezing off a critical shot. "Three."

All the digital displays went dark. Relief combined with fatigue and too much activity after being badly injured made rubber out of their legs and they both sunk down onto the ground, laughing. It was the sort of nervous laughter that always followed another brush with death, and they both knew it, but it was always music that they were both still there to hear it. Jack racked his brain for a second and said, "Remember, remember the fifth of November."

Impressed, Mac grinned at him and continued, "Gunpowder, treason, and plot."

A sharp sound rang out as a bullet hit the earth between the two men. They jumped back and looked up to find Murdoc nearly doubled over facing them, wheezing, blood all around his mouth and dripping down his face, with his pistol leveled at them with a shaking hand. "I see no reason the gunpowder treason should ever be forgot."


	27. Chapter 27

Mac raised his hands in a gesture which most other people meant as surrender, but with Mac was only ever about buying time. Jack didn't move, thinking it was better not to draw Murdoc's attention if he could avoid it. Mac started to slowly get to his feet, picking his jacket up off the ground and putting it on casually like this was the most normal situation in the world, telegraphing every movement so Murdoc wouldn't see him as a threat. "Murdoc, put the gun down."

He fired again, right at Mac's feet. "I don't think so, Angus. The Organization may want you alive. And I was willing to let them have it while I could at least enjoy the money they showered on me, count on them to get me to freedom when the need arose, let me entertain myself so they could learn more about you, which is terribly difficult when it comes to you, by the way. Even when you were a teenager you were so private, had such very loyal friends." Mac's brow furrowed, but he didn't interrupt; instead he just edged further away from Jack and a little closer to Murdoc. "Now though, if I don't see the sun again, neither do you."

With some difficulty, Murdoc repositioned his weapon to aim at Mac again. Talking was all Mac had. "What do you mean 'when I was a teenager'? You mean the Organization has been watching me since I was in the Army?"

Murdoc started laughing, but it quickly became a coughing fit, that forced the man to his knees. Mac vaguely heard Jack swear when he went to Murdoc's side, unable to simply watch another human being suffer like that without at least trying to help. "Oh Angus," he wheezed. "You really are such a boy scout. The Organization has had an interest in you since you were very young. I said the very early days didn't I? Who better to use against the operative that infiltrated their ranks and was ready to blow the whole thing wide open than his genius son, the son who looked so much like the woman he'd loved and lost, who was all he had left in the world?"

For a moment, Mac was reeling. Then he shook his head and just leaned over and took the gun from Murdoc's weekly trembling grasp. He slid it away from them on the ground toward Jack. "That's a nice story Murdoc. And I get that screwing with my head is your favorite pastime, otherwise why bother to steal my records from my shrink, but unfortunately for you she's really good at her job, even if she is really shitty at cyber security." He eased the gasping killer back onto the ground and tilted his head to listen to the chatter on the comms for a moment. "Help's on the way, man. You might just see the light of day again. I mean, there's gonna be bars involved, but on balance most people feel like staying alive is win enough."

Jack was approaching them cautiously from behind Mac. Murdoc might look like he was just going to go gentle into that good night to Mac (although Mac would do whatever he could to keep the bastard alive, proving to Jack that the kid was too decent a person for his own good), but to Jack he looked like a crocodile lying still beneath the water's surface, just waiting for an unsuspecting piece of tasty meat to venture close enough to catch. Murdoc gave a gasping chuckle. "I suppose it might be, if I got to see what you do with this new information, MacGyver. And part of you knows I wouldn't make up something like that. Trust me when I tell you Angus, I may wear disguises, but I never really lie. The truth is far too much fun."

Murdoc coughed again and this time started choking on his blood. Mac dutifully rolled him on his side. Mac knew he was better off not engaging but he couldn't help himself. "My dad was a scientist."

Mac dutifully took Murdoc's pulse and made a face. It was fading fast and if they had any hope of saving his life and being able to delve further into what he knew about the Organization, Steve and the rest of the team needed to hustle. "Explain all his travel."

Mac shook his head in disbelief. This guy was like a dog with a bone. "He worked for WHO and Doctors Without Borders making sanitizing and barrier equipment. Field tests were an important part of his work."

Jack frowned as Murdoc's voice took on a tinge of amusement. "A convenient answer. One which you were clearly given repeatedly to have it so very much at the ready after all this time." Jack's frown deepened when he saw a dark expression pass over Mac's face. "Explain your inability to find him even when you've really looked. You're a fully trained government agent who has an IQ well into the genius range, a very unique skill set, with just about the best hacker in the world and inarguably the best tracker both at your disposal."

"Aw jeez Murdoc, flattery will get you the really nice padded cell," Jack quipped, hoping to break the spell Murdoc was weaving.

Mac straightened and got to his feet, stepping slightly back from Murdoc. Jack was right on his elbow, face lined with growing concern. "I can't explain it."

Murdoc tipped his head up and gave him a slow, bloody smile. "Explain that delightful collection of specialized firearms he kept in your home."

Jack actually put a hand on Mac's arm when the younger man swayed, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment. His sharp intake of breath sounded so much like pain that Jack found himself looking the kid over, expecting to see another knife sticking out of him. He took another stumbling step away from Murdoc. "I can't explain that either."

"Maybe you don't want to. Seems like you found yourself a decent replacement. And at least he was always honest with you about his work." Murdoc looked meaningfully at Jack and the murderous darkness there made Mac's skin crawl.

Jack could hear the rest of the team approaching in the tunnel and was grateful he would soon have a reason to go back topside with Mac, and separate him from this treacherous demon in human skin who was relishing whispering his poison into Mac's exhausted mind. Murdoc's smile grew and he chuckled, a hollow sound that sprayed blood in a cloud around him. "You know what Angus? I think I'm going to live just to see what you do next."

Jack saw it a split second too late. The tiny remote in Murdoc's hand could only be for one purpose. Even though Jack shouted a warning and he and Mac both broke into a run, the blast was almost instantaneous. They were thrown toward their approaching teammates and all of them were sent sprawling in a cloud of dust and debris.

Jack came around a short time later to Mac slapping him gently on the face. "C'mon Jack; come on back, big guy."

Mac was crouched beside him and had clearly moved a fair amount of blown up tunnel off him before trying to wake him up. The kid was filthy and bloody and Jack could see that he'd probably opened up the stitches along his ribs a little, because his t-shirt was sticking to his slide, although that was nearly concealed by his jacket. Jack thought Mac was moving like he'd been picked up and rag-dolled like the Hulk did to Loki in _Avengers_ but when he saw Jack's eyes open his face split into an unmistakable grin. He extended a hand to help Jack up. "Can you move?"

Jack reached up and gripped the offered hand, giving a short nod and grunting as he got to his feet. "You okay, kid?"

Mac grinned, "Probably not, but neither are you. Thing is, we'll have to argue about which of us needs to go to the hospital more another time."

He gestured around at the rest of the team who had all picked themselves up and were sifting through the rubble or talking on radios to get more assistance down to help. Jack grinned back, "It's clearly you, but go on."

"No Murdoc. Anywhere."

"Of-fucking-course," Jack spat. "So what do we do?"

Mac started walking and Jack just followed. He'd had enough of Murdoc to last him a life time, and he was up for whatever the kid was thinking. "I was thinking we hit the streets and show Murdoc that the world's best tracker and genius spy actually exist as more than little pieces of flattery meant to sell a bullshit story."

Jack grinned and clapped him on the shoulder, regretting it when Mac gasped and stumbled like he might actually pass out. Jack grabbed him by the elbow and pulled him quickly upright. "Sorry, I'm so sorry, bud."

"Don't even worry about it," Mac said as they strolled past Todd who had taken command of the situation here in the tunnel since he hadn't even been knocked out by the blast.

Todd called after them, "MacGyver, Dalton you get your asses back here and get checked out by the medic before you go anywhere!"

Mac didn't even turn his head, just waved in Todd's general direction, "We're good, thanks."

Mac picked up his pace and Jack stepped up his to keep up as Todd shouted, "I said get back here, dammit!"

Mac called again, a humorous dare in his tone. "I'm pretty sure we out rank you at Phoenix, dude."

"Dalton!" he called, since the older man was usually the voice of reason if there was a possibility Mac was injured or in some way not entirely mission ready.

Jack threw Mac a big grin and shouted back, "Once a Delta, always a Delta; I out rank everybody!"

Then the two of them rounded the bend in the tunnel, headed for the nearest service ladder that would take them out onto the busy streets of the nation's capitol to look for one of the most dangerous killers either of them had ever met. They couldn't possibly know that he watched, well pleased with his evening's work, making his own plans to make good on his promise to see where this all went.


	28. Chapter 28

They walked several blocks in the early morning light and wilting hear of a late DC spring day before Mac stepped off the sidewalk and sunk down on a park bench, resting his elbows on his thighs. Jack quickly joined him. Jack didn't like the look of him one bit, but followed his earlier impulse to let Mac take the lead. "You really think we have a shot at figurin' out where Señor Psychopath disappeared to?"

Mac closed his eyes and took a couple of deep breaths. He could feel Jack's concern, but deeply appreciated the lid the man was keeping on it at the moment. He decided to honor his previous thoughts about dealing with his own well-being and just be honest. Before he did so, he pulled the comm out of his ear so the rest of the team didn't hear it too and waited until Jack had followed suit, pleased that his partner didn't even hesitate before removing the earpiece and stuffing it into the front pocket of his jeans. "No … But you and I both know that if we stayed, we'd be headed back to the hospital once Steve had half a second to get on the comms with Matty … and I just can't … I need some time alone after …" he trailed off.

Their grubby slightly bloodied appearance was garnering some strange looks from people passing and Jack just gave anyone who met his eye a threatening glare as he gently draped an arm around Mac's shoulders, extremely careful not to put any real weight on his left side. "I get it, bud. Do you think any of what he …"

"No!" Mac interrupted. Then he paused and ran a hand over his eyes. Eyes that were too hot and were filling against all his finer impulses. "I don't know, Jack. But it makes a lot of sense." Jack just waited. Jack was no idiot, despite what he might let the world think. A master's degree in criminal psychology tacked on to an undergrad of psych and military history, all with high honors didn't come to just any Tom, Dick, or Harry, but he knew that, bright and educated as he was, Mac made him look like a slow child. Mac had a once in a lifetime intellect. He might get the kid to realize it and take full advantage of what it might offer him one of these days. "He was always gone. He'd come home with these injuries sometimes. I mean, the guy was supposed to be a chemical engineer; how the hell do you break your arm doing that."

Mac was silent for a few minutes so Jack finally said, "Same way you do workin' in a think tank maybe?"

Mac shook his head. "I can't believe I was so stupid! I've been telling the same bullshit stories for years and I never thought ..!" his voice was choked off in what would have been a sob on anyone else, but on Mac was just another supreme act of self control.

"Mac …" Jack carefully pulled the younger man into a hug, glaring at another passerby. "You were a little kid." Jack ground his teeth, and then found he had to say what was on his mind. "When you told me about him getting you to donate bone marrow to your mom … I hardly knew you, but I kind of wanted to beat the hell out of him. Who puts their baby in that position, makes them feel like it's all on them? If I ever meet him I can't promise I won't bust the chicken shit coward right in the teeth and I don't care if he turns out to be the greatest spy who ever lived!"

Mac found himself leaning into Jack's side, even though it hurt his shoulder and his ribs to do it. "I called him that once, too."

Jack almost grinned at the kid, but stopped himself. The flat tone Mac was using didn't even speak of a memory of conflict, just one he regretted. "Oh, yeah? Please tell me it was when he wanted to let someone drill a hole in one of your bones, instead of one of his."

Mac shook his head, but gave Jack a watery half smile. "No. It was after all that was over … My mom came home. And I was so happy, Jack. In my head everything was going to be okay, even though I was watching her get sicker and weaker every day." Mac took a shaky breath. "She had a really bad night. My grandfather stayed and gave her her morphine when things got really bad. My dad didn't like giving her the shots. But he'd gone home for a couple of hours to shower and change and whatever and I was sitting with her …" Mac went silent again and Jack was almost ready to say something when Mac began again. "She woke up … sort of … She was really hurting … I don't think she even knew me, honestly. So I went to get my dad since Grandpa wasn't there … He was on the phone and when I opened the door to his office he slammed it down … and his hand was on a revolver on his desk."

Jack couldn't stop himself, "What did you ..?"

Mac dropped his head toward his chest. "I think I'd seen some stupid TV show about someone killing someone to 'end their suffering' and I was so mad at him that he wasn't just by her side to give her the medicine when she needed it. And let's face it I was still pretty pissed about what I'd been through … I yelled at him to leave her alone." Mac took another shuddering breath. "He looked so stricken, now that I'm remembering it … But I didn't care then. I just went and crawled into bed with Mom, hoping that if I was there, he'd leave her alone … I was six … I honestly don't even know what I was thinking. But I've hated guns ever since. I got in another fight with him about them right before he left and … I was actually talking about joining the Army just like my grandfather way back then and my dad freaked out and … Anyway, the last things we ever said to each other in person weren't good, Jack."

"One of you was an adult!" Jack said vehemently.

"Yeah. But we're both adults now. And if he has anything to do with the Organization, Jack … I just …"

Now Mac couldn't keep the emotion out of his voice, and hearing it, he got abruptly to his feet and started walking again. He realized he was also swaying a fair amount when Jack carefully put an arm around him and fell into step next to him.

"What about what Nutterbutters said about Nikki?"

Mac shook his head. "Probably all true." He paused again. "And it calls everything about Thornton into question. Jack, I don't even …"

Jack realized Mac had started to cry, but it was in the quiet frustrated way of a person who is dead set against it. He led him to the closest park bench along the street, and in a very un-Mac-like display, the young man just followed him and sat, leaning against him again. "It's okay, bud. These people just keep flippin' your world upside down … And the things you've seen … back in the War, hell, since we been home … It ain't any wonder that you needed a few minutes."

Mac nodded gratefully. He never thought he'd trust anyone again until he met Jack. Even his friends like Bozer and Penny, he always assumed there was a price. Jack had showed him time and again that as far as Mac was concerned he was already bought and paid for. Mac often hoped desperate that it wouldn't someday cost the man an equal measure.

Mac pulled in a jagged breath and drew the back of his good arm across his eyes. "I'm sorry I lost it a little, man. I wish it didn't all bother me so much … I …" He stopped and then decided Jack might like to know how much he thought of him. "I wish I was more like you. All of this never seems to get to you, to bother you …"

"For a genius you can be awful dumb sometimes, Mac." Mac glanced at him and Jack met his eyes with a warm, fond expression. "Of course it all gets to me, brother. Difference between me and you is that I've decided that it's okay to be human and let it. But don't you worry none. We'll get you there."

Jack was feeling the warm glow of Mac's admiration and was further warmed when Mac responded. "I believe you."

Jack released him and turned to him more fully so they could really talk. "Where do you really think Murdoc got to?"

"Honestly?" Mac raised an eyebrow. "I have no idea since I didn't look at any of the physical evidence."

"So, until we have some crime scene reports, we're kinda just useless as far as Matty is concerned."

"Probably," Mac acknowledged.

Jack gave him a long concerned stare. "Whadaya say I get Ri to bring the van and pick us up and just get us all a suite for the night somewhere out of the way, kinda cash only so we're off the radar and we can just chill for a little?"

Mac sighed. "That sounds kinda great."

Jack hesitated and then went on. "I was thinkin' maybe the whole team."

"Jack … I don't want …" Mac began, knowing exactly what his partner was thinking.

"Look, bud, we'll have Steve bring his kit, but with the agreement that if he rats us out to Matty, he's got desk duty for at least the next three missions. And he's as bad as you about that; he'll hate it. He'll behave and patch you up some and then we …"

"What about you?"

"What about me?" Jack asked indignantly.

"You're bleeding, Jack. You've clearly busted open some stitches, and …"

"I'm fine!" Jack interrupted.

"If I have to put up with him, so do you." Mac folded his arms, even though it hurt to do so, just to make his point.

"I don't need Steve fussin' …"

"Me either," Mac shrugged, still not unfolding his arms, although he knew he did, since he could feel blood drying on the cut along his ribs and had probably pulled most or all of those stitches when they'd gotten blown up. In fact pulling his shirt free from that was going to be a real bitch.

"Fine!" Jack huffed, as he got out his phone to text Riley what the plan was.

Mac gave him a half satisfied grin. "I'm starting to think you're a big baby and you hide behind your big loud Texas accent and fussing over me to keep your cover."

Jack gave him an affectionate shove. "You are still way too skinny to hide behind, Hollywood."

Mac chuckled, even as he rolled his eyes.


	29. Chapter 29

Jack got up slowly and carefully, both because his pain medication had worn off and because he didn't want to make some noise and disturb his roommate. The double room was big, but Mac was an incredibly light sleeper, waking up at a pin drop, unless he was caught up in some nightmare. Then the man could be frustratingly difficult to pull from slumber. He swayed for a minute as he got to his feet, thinking that he probably had a mild concussion to go with his bomb-induced bruising, separated ribs, and the many cuts he'd gotten on the glass the previous night, several of which had required re-stitching. Jack glanced over at his partner, lying in the double bed across the room, almost overly still. It would have worried him but, he reasoned, it could be the result of the sedative Steve had given the kid.

Mac really should have gone back to the hospital, probably shouldn't have left it to begin with, if Jack were a hundred percent honest with himself, but he just couldn't force the issue. Besides, Jack reasoned as he gingerly made his way toward the bathroom, Steve had shown up to the hotel suite with Riley and Todd fully prepared to deal with just about any medical emergency short of open heart surgery (and even that, in a pinch, Jack was pretty sure), and he'd been a good sport about Mac's refusal to consider going back to a more traditional setting for treatment. Well, Jack had argued him into being a good sport about it. At first, without so much as even a cursory exam of either of them, he'd gotten out his phone to call Matty, saying both of them looked to be in rougher shape than he was comfortable dealing with in the field. Mac had taken a reflexive step toward the door, but Jack held up his hand and explained their deal. No boss. No hospitals. Just the team. And if he got that, Mac would stay put and follow Steve's medical advice until they had a full analysis of the scene and hopefully Nikki's laptop.

Steve reluctantly agreed, shaking his head and setting his bag down on the coffee table in the suite's common room. Mac tipped his chin at Jack and told him in no uncertain terms that Steve was fixing him up first, otherwise he knew Jack would find an excuse to not get looked after at all, and Jack had countered with the same argument. Riley situated herself in a comfortable ottoman chair off in a corner with the laptop she was trying to crack, grinning and shaking her head, too. This was an overly familiar scene. Usually Jack won, but mostly because Mac would get fed up with the ridiculous arguments Jack tried to make, rather than actually conceding he needed help. Todd raised his eyebrows at her and said that instead of listening to Butch and Sundance argue over who was actually dumber he was going to shower off the dirt from the blast. That solved Steve's problem nicely. "That only leaves one full bathroom for you guys to get cleaned up in," he said. He took out a quarter and told MacGyver to call it. The toss came out heads, counter to his call, and Mac swore. Jack crowed just a little, but Steve, seeing this as a good way to give Mac a small win and minimize his arguing later on, said, "Lucky you, Dalton. Mac lost the privilege of getting checked out first. Go grab a shower, Mac, and I'll put Humpty Dumpty back together again while you're busy. Then, you're up."

Jack had done a fair amount of totally justifiable whining, but he skated out of the deal without the doc insisting on a tetanus shot (although it was mentioned in reference to all those fresh and filthy cuts), so all things being equal, it felt like a win. A couple of Vicodin and his own shower later, Jack was reasonably convinced that he hadn't actually drawn the short straw. The arrangement had worked well for Mac, too, since it seemed to take the pressure off and make him feel like he had options, which had been Steve's diabolical intention. By the time he finished getting cleaned up, his body was telling him (in a very loud, insistent voice that spoke in all capital letters) that he did in fact need some medical care and the sooner the better would be appreciated. Mac had been worse off to begin with, what with the knife wound to his shoulder and the fair amount of solid hits Murdoc had gotten in during their struggle, and since he couldn't tolerate narcotic pain meds, he put in a much less pleasant day than Jack, just sitting wedged into one end of the couch and wincing every time he moved.

It was still fairly early when Steve had suggested to them (ordered was probably more accurate) that they should both go to bed. Jack had gratefully accepted a couple of pills for his pain, knowing sleep would be thin without them, and secure in the knowledge that Todd, who had been far enough back to only really get dirty from the underground blast, had security covered for the night. Mac had taken more ibuprofen, knowing there was only so much it was going to help. When Steve told him he thought, in order to help him get some sleep to really rest and recover, a sedative was medically the most logical thing to consider as an alternative to the pain meds he couldn't take, Mac had accepted being given the shot without much resistance, and was nearly asleep on his feet as he preceded Jack through the door of the room they were sharing. Jack turned to offer their teammate a quiet thank you and Steve had just given him a wink. "Couch anything in solid logic and it's usually smooth sailing, Jack. You might want to give it a try one of these days when you two get in one of your pigheaded shouting matches."

Now Jack had finished with his necessary business and hand washing. He flashed his reflection a lopsided grin as he checked his own pupils in the mirror. Satisfied they were even, he flicked off the light and shuffled back toward his bed, thinking another dose of medicine would be nice to take him through the rest of the night, but not so nice that he was going to wake Steve up for it. Besides, no matter what the man said about how good the new baby was, he looked as sleep deprived as Jack had ever seen him. Patching their dumb asses up was probably like a vacation that had been well-earned. Jack stopped mid-step when he saw Mac wasn't still in his bed. The dim blue light of the TV filtered through the crack in the door from the silent common area. TV with no sound. Classic Mac. That explained his partner's stillness when Jack had gotten up. He wasn't sleeping peacefully. He'd been lying there awake, trying to decide what to do about it. Jack checked the bedside clock. Only 1:30 in the morning. Steve had been pretty sure Mac would be out cold all night. No such luck apparently. Since Mac hadn't waited until Jack went back to sleep to slip out of their room, Jack assumed Mac wouldn't mind some company, was maybe even subtly asking for it. He slipped on the cushy hotel robe from the hook by the door and went into the common area. He nodded at Mac as he walked right by him into the kitchen, like he just needed a midnight snack. That way if Mac didn't want him around, the kid wouldn't feel like he'd been hovering. He called out quietly, "You want a slice of pizza, dude?"

Mac turned his head toward Jack giving it a little shake, "No thanks …" Then he thought about it; not eating was sort of a default when he was stressed out. Not the healthiest coping mechanism. Steve had helpfully pointed out that it was no more logical than eating crap or drinking too much when he was out of sorts and he was probably doing as much damage to his body in the long run. He had a sneaking suspicion that Steve had learned to get him to cooperate by using science and he wanted to be a little pissed about it, but it was damned clever. Also, he was usually right. "On second thought, I'd love one," he called softly. Then he just got up and went to see what there was to drink, opting for a tangerine coconut water and grabbing Jack a ginger ale while Jack plated them up a couple of slices. They went back into the living area and sat down in front of a silent replay of the previous night's hockey game. Mac favored Vancouver so he wasn't disappointed in the action. After a few bites of pizza, old habits won over and he just sat next to Jack in silence for a little while, sipping his coconut water. Finally, Jack decided to do a little fishing.

"I didn't wake you did I? Steve said the stuff he gave you would probably have you out for twelve hours or so."

Mac absently rubbed the back of his neck in a familiar nervous gesture. "Yeah, well, that stuff never works like it's supposed to."

Jack shook his head. "Hardly seems fair. I feel like maybe you deserve the rest every once in a while."

Mac gave him a little grin. "I'm not complaining. Being hard to drug has saved my ass once or twice."

Jack chuckled, "Yeah. It's saved both our asses a few times, I think."

Mac moved a couple of throw pillows and got comfortable against the arm of the couch so he could face Jack. He was happy the lights were out so every detail of their faces weren't visible to the other, but happy for the low light of the TV so he could evaluate Jack's expressions. "I couldn't sleep any more. When I heard you get up I knew I wouldn't be disturbing you. Also I figured it meant your pain meds wore off and you'd probably be up for a while anyway. Hurting in the middle of the night all alone sucks. It's more tolerable with pizza and hockey. And company."

"You mean you actually wanted me out here? I was afraid I was gonna piss you off. You tend to like to be alone when you're processing a lot."

Mac snorted out a little laugh. "Yeah, well, I'm working on that."

Jack noticed Mac had stopped eating and thought he'd better give him an opening before other old habits closed him off. "What got you up, bud? Nightmares again?"

Mac shook his head, looking at Jack thoughtfully. "No. I woke up and I was just thinking about everything. Nikki … Thornton … Murdoc … My father."

"What were you thinkin', Mac?" Jack asked gently.

"That I never saw it before, but they're all connected … somehow. Like a really complicated Venn diagram … or maybe more like a web. Yeah … like a spider web. Something natural, but planned … dangerous."

Jack could see how big Mac's eyes were even in the dim light here. "So what do we do about it? Grab a duster?" Jack tried a joke, but Mac shook his head. It wasn't annoyed or anything, Jack thought, it just said Mac's brain was actually doing something with the metaphor.

"No," the blond head turned slowly from side to side, reinforcing the negative. "If you just knock it down whatever is caught in the web goes with it. And I'm caught in it, Jack. I didn't see it before, but I do now. I'm caught in this web. Like a fly that knows its fate."

Jack searched his own brain for a metaphor that involved someone protecting a fly, but the best he could come up with was an entomologist, so he just asked, "So what do we do with this web, buddy? What do we do that keeps you safe from going down with it?"

Jack's heart lifted when he saw Mac give him a small smile. "We pick it apart one thread at a time."

"Is there a thread you think you've figured out how to cut loose?" Jack's eyes were narrow now.

Mac nodded. "Nikki."

"Then that's where we'll start." Jack got up and started toward one of the closed doors.

Mac's eyes followed him. "What're you doing, Jack?"

"Gonna bug Steve. It's 2:30 am and we both need some more sleep."

Mac shook his head stubbornly. "I'll just try going back to bed. I'm all cooperative-patiented out. No more shots."

Jack tipped him a knowing grin. "Now Mac, is that very logical?"

Mac shook his head and sighed, but gave Jack a grin of his own. "You guys are assholes."


	30. Chapter 30

Jack wasn't sure how he felt about the plan, but he had to admit Mac's reasoning was solid. Nikki clearly had some sort of feelings for Mac, or she wouldn't keep coming around. And her reaction in Brazil a couple of years ago had been memorable. Jack had almost felt bad about it at the time. Since Mac was the one who brought it up, Jack was feeling pretty good about the headspace his partner was in. He was somewhat glad that Mac was back at the flop house they'd chosen for this op for a couple of reasons. First, Matty was pissed when he'd come in. Like shades of the new to Phoenix, Matty the Hun, I will break up your team or fire your asses pissed, that they had taken off after the explosion, and even more pissed that they'd pulled in the rest of the team. Todd had wisely stayed out of the whole conversation and let Jack lay on all of his considerable charm in explaining their reasoning. She wasn't necessarily a big fan of their plan either, but she had to admit it was unconventional, and since Nikki had been on the team back in the days of shoot-from-the-hip Thornton, it was probably more plausible than anything Matty could stage. Secondly, Matty got pretty specific about just how off the books she was okay with their interrogation getting. He also thought Mac would probably be mad if he knew he'd agreed to let Matty hear from Steve that they were both mission ready before she gave the go ahead. Jack thought it was a pretty reasonable request from the boss, but given how much strain Mac was under in general right now, and how valiantly he was coping, Jack wasn't sure what amounted to an invasion of his privacy (at least as far as Mr. I'm-Fine-We're-Fine-Everything's-Fine was concerned) wouldn't set him off. Steve had somewhat reluctantly backed up his teammates that they could reasonably get the job done, although he had added for Matty's benefit that if either one of the fools dropped dead, on their own heads it would be.

As Matty led Jack and Todd, both decked out in full tactical gear, along with a deadly looking agent in a sharp suit by the name of Stone, into the holding cell where they'd put Nikki after getting nowhere new in two days of questioning, she had to suppress a smile. She had clawed her way to the top in this business over the last decade by publically being very by the book, keeping better records than anyone else, and having better research and justification for her actions than her peers. But she and Jack went way back. What he was proposing made her think of the good old days where she knew she'd been a bit of a rogue herself. God damn, but they'd had fun. She wouldn't say so, to him or anyone else, but getting to see Jack back in action, especially with a partner that seemed to bring out the best in him (even when he was being a huge pain in the ass) was one of the highlights of having taken the job at Phoenix. She was often a little jealous that her days of truly getting to go into the field were probably over. Jack and Todd flanked her, about as intimidating and huge as she'd ever seen a couple of guys look. Jack was so often a goofball, he made it easy to forget how truly deadly he could be. Agent Stone stood silently next to the prisoner. Nikki looked up at them with wide, innocent eyes.

"Miss Carpenter," Matty said crisply. "As of this morning you are being transferred to our more secure and permanent holding facility for further interrogation."

"What am I being charged with?" she asked, a haughty tilt to her chin.

"Nothing at the moment, although I suspect conspiracy and treason will be on the list at some point," Matty answered with a much less than pleasant smile.

"You can't just keep me locked up without …"

An eyebrow climbed. "Sweetie, you were apprehended as part of a plot to deploy a WMD in our nation's capital. An act of terror. Not to mention you purposely endangered my agents in the course of those activities. I can make you disappear indefinitely and it's perfectly legal. So that's what I am going to do."

Realizing that was true, being unable to stay in denial about it anymore made Nikki's eyes go slightly wild. "Jack?" she said almost pleading, hoping that the times she saved him, saved Mac with her quick work on the keyboard might outweigh what he knew, and what he suspected, about how often she'd also come close to getting them killed.

He just gave her a tight smile. His really frightening one, Matty thought. "I'm just the muscle here, Nik. Mac might have a hard time with it, but I've always been pretty good at following orders."

"Where is Mac?" Nikki asked, craning her neck to see around Jack and into the hallway.

Jack glanced away from her face and toward Matty almost nervously. Then Nikki noticed him button his expression right back up. "Unavailable," he said gruffly.

Matty narrowed her eyes at Jack, a look that spoke of deep suspicion. "Agent MacGyver has gone dark, Miss Carpenter. And none of us knows why. If it has anything to do with you, I assure you that we will find it out." She glared at the three agents prepared to transport Nikki. "Get her onto the jet by the designated time, gentlemen."

With that Matty left the office and Nikki watched as Jack's eyes followed her from the room and he and the other big guy in tac gear shared a look behind Agent Stone's back as he moved to release Nikki from the handcuffs keeping her at the small table in the middle of the room. For a split second Jack thought she might try something, but when he and Todd moved their bulk in front of the door and just glared, she docilely allowed Stone to secure the cuffs and shackles he had ready. Then Jack stepped forward and added zip ties to her wrists and patted her down, even though she was wearing a jumpsuit issued to her by Phoenix. "Just makin' sure there's no bobby pins in the mix this morning, Nik."

She glared at him and he gave her another of his enigmatic smiles. She'd seen the look before. He didn't talk about it. Ever. But she knew Dalton was no stranger to wet work. A chill traveled down her spine. She'd exposed him to a virus that could have killed him. But, probably more damning in Papa Jack's eyes, she thought ruefully, she'd exposed Mac and put him in Murdoc's way again. She had to force her feet to move as they led her down the hall and toward the building's exit. Agent Stone walked out of the building first and checked the street, since their parking spot was up the block a little, just past an overgrown lot and almost obscured by the tall grass leaning out over the sidewalk. Jack grinned to himself as he stepped up behind her and whispered in her ear. "So much as a peep out on that sidewalk and me or my buddy Milton here will drop you so fast you'll be cold before anyone realizes you're dead."

She took a deep breath as she followed Agent Stone outside, flanked by Jack and this Milton character. As they approached the late model beige sedan, Stone opened the door and stepped away from the car, pulling out his radio to apparently call in their checkpoint and as Milton was shoving Nikki into the back seat, Jack tackled the other agent, heaving him into the tall grass. All Nikki could make out was fists flying. She saw the agent's radio sail through the air and shatter on the sidewalk. When what Jack was really up to dawned on her she started screaming bloody murder in the back of the car until she heard the click of an old fashioned revolver being cocked. Todd was sitting in the driver's seat now, grinning back at her with an expression that was maybe even scarier than Jack's Cold Operator one. "Can it, Package. My whole job is to get you to the drop off. Dalton was non-specific as to the required state of your heart rate on delivery when he wrote me my check."

A moment later Jack slid into the back seat next to Nikki, letting her see the gun he pressed into her ribs even as he pulled the dark hood he had ready over her face. "Drive," was all he said. He glanced back over his shoulder at the lot he'd just crawled out of, pleased with what he saw. Then he grumbled, "Bastard took his job way too seriously. Slammed me right in the ribs where they're separated."

"Least you were wearing your vest," Todd grinned. "Hope you paid him back for today."

"It's on credit," Jack grinned back as they sped off toward the outskirts of town.

After a few minutes, Jack got out his phone to send a text.


	31. Chapter 31

The place they pulled up behind when Jack finally yanked the hood off Nikki's head looked like the set to some low budget horror movie. He reminded her about the repercussions for noise as he and Milton slid out of the car. She was almost pleased to see how stiffly Jack was moving now. Maybe Stone had busted one of his ribs. It could poke a whole right in one of his lungs and he could turn blue and drop dead in front of her and she certainly wouldn't shed a tear. Milton opened the door for her and Jack hauled her, none to gently to her feet. "After you," he said with a sinister sneer as his gun dug into her ribs again and she was shoved toward the door of the end unit on a dilapidated motel. She glanced around. The place was all but empty. It might even be abandoned. She took in the neighborhood around them. Screaming would get her nowhere. The one card she had was Jack's affection for MacGyver. "Jack, don't do this. You know Mac still cares about me! If he ever finds out, he'll never forgive you. Think what this would do to him."

Jack and Todd shared a look behind her back. "Oh, I've thought about it," Jack said coldly. "But I've spent a lot more time thinking about what's been done to him already."

Todd went in first, holding the door, and Jack shoved Nikki inside, following quickly and closing the door behind him. Nikki stumbled in the shackles and nearly fell.

Nikki's eyes adjusted to the dim interior and she gasped, "What the hell ..?"

On a filthy mattress in a dark corner of the dusty, disheveled room, was Mac, face slack with what she hoped vaguely was sleep and not unconsciousness, wearing a torn and bloody t-shirt, covered loosely with a Mylar camping blanket that was clutched in one hand. Jack gave Nikki a hard shove toward a hallway off to the right. "He tangled with Murdoc, Nikki, just like you set him up to. What did you think was going to happen?"

She reluctantly shuffled down the hallway, casting a glance at the pale huddled form in the corner. "I didn't … I hoped …"

Jack pushed her into a room that was empty but for a heavy wooden chair, a washtub, and a small side table, on which lay some distressingly familiar tools of the darker side of the intelligence trade. She hadn't been wrong when she'd started screaming in the car. Nothing was going to stand between Jack and what he wanted to know. The question was, could she give it to him and keep her life? Maybe. She knew Jack very well. "What happened to Mac? Why is he here?"

"He won't go in, Nikki. You told him things that about set his brain on fire; then Murdoc comes along and plays like some of it might be true, some of it not … He mentioned Thornton, among other things." Jack pinned her with a piercing stare. "He doesn't know who to trust now. You guys made sure of that. I'm all he's got left that he knows isn't out to cross him or get him killed. And he needs to go in Nikki. You saw him. If I can get the story straight, if I can bring Murdoc in, maybe he'll agree to headin' in from the cold." He was pleased when he saw her swallow hard. "We can make this real easy, you know. Murdoc was injured, but he rabbited. Where would he go get help here in the DC area? Where's the Organization's safe house?"

None of this was going to be easy. That piece of information would definitely get her killed. "I didn't tell your boss, and I can't tell you." She paused. "He's unconscious out there. Why not just take him in? Get him the help he needs?"

"Because he asked me not to," Jack said dispassionately. "I won't go against him, too, Nikki. Even if it costs me."

I'm sorry, Jack. I honestly am," she whispered. Jack nodded at his companion.

The larger man, Milton, forced her to sit and secured her to the chair with more zip ties. Jack looked down at her like a bug he was about to step on. "Okay," he smiled. Her blood ran cold. "We'll do this the hard way."

0-0-0

An hour or so later the door banged open. Jack and Todd stepped away from Nikki. Her hair was dripping wet, clinging to her face, but she lifted her head to see Mac, still dressed in bloody clothes and leaning against the door jamb like it was the only thing keeping him upright. Her eyes were unfocused, her pupils blown wide, but still she flinched when she saw him sway and put one hand on the wall for support and press the other to his bloody side when he came into the room.

"Mac?" she whispered.

"I told you," Jack said gruffly, "Between you and Murdoc, it's a wonder he's still on his feet at all."

"I told you," Nikki slurred, obviously under the influence of something, "That I didn't want to do it. I thought he might really get sick. That's why I bailed on the plan. Mostly."

"Mostly?" Todd asked.

"Well, I figured we might get caught and if I helped maybe I wouldn't get the death penalty." Her head dropped to her chest for a minute.

Mac took another step toward her. Jack put a hand on Mac's shoulder. "How ya feelin', bud?" he asked with real concern.

"Like someone kicked me when I was down and betrayed me," Mac responded with a fair amount of real heat. He was looking at the floor.

"I'm sorry you have to go through this, Mac," Jack said with genuine regret.

Mac couldn't look at him and keep going at the moment. "What have you done to her?"

"Threatened her mostly. Did give her some good stuff I lifted off the medic though. You'd think that woulda softened her up by now. But she still hasn't given up the location. We were just getting started with taking things to the next level when you came in."

Mac dropped down onto his knees on the floor in front of Nikki, his hands on her legs, eyes searching her face for even the tiniest flutter. "Nikki; look at me."

"My hero," Nikki breathed as she slowly lifted her head to meet his eyes, obviously feeling the effects of whatever Jack had taken from Steve to lower her defenses. Mac actually didn't want to know.

"I'm sorry it came to this," Mac said softly. She blinked slowly, but that was all. "He just wants to find the safe house Nikki. Jack shot Murdoc, but he got away."

This time tears filled her eyes. "He was just supposed to scare you."

Mac's eyes narrowed for a second. "Well … If scaring me was what you guys wanted, making me climb the ladder inside the Monument was a damned good place to start." He managed to sound like he was half joking.

"No," she shook her head from side to side, like a little kid denying it's their bed time. "When he came after you in LA. He wasn't supposed to shoot anybody, just get you questioning yourself, maybe questioning Phoenix."

Mac sucked in his breath with real pain, whether physical or emotional Jack couldn't determine, especially since right now he only had the kid in profile and his blond hair was predictably hanging in his face. Jack quietly interjected, "Why'd he shoot Patty if you guys are all on the same team?"

"Thornton?" a little laugh now bubbled out of Nikki's mouth, even as a tear tailed down her cheek. "Shooting her was fun for him. 'Sides, we aren't on the same team at all. She's been working to bring down the Organization since she was twenty." Nikki didn't seem to notice the conspicuous silence in the room at that particular revelation and went on. "Her face when she realized that Trojan horse program I planted in her stuff made you think she was really with us … Oh, that was priceless."

"But she recruited you for DXS," Mac frowned.

"Did she?" This time Nikki sniffed. She was caught between emotions and the drugs she'd been dosed with made it hard for her to draw the appropriate lines between them. "Took me months of fishing to get her to make the offer. Once we knew she'd hired you, we needed an in. The boss figured I'd be right up your alley, Mac."

"Who's your boss, Nikki?" Mac asked quietly.

"Who knows?" Nikki shrugged. "Pays good though. Knows talent when he sees it. Rewards loyalty."

"Why did they want you close to Mac?" Jack asked the question he knew Mac couldn't make himself.

"Don't know that either. I do know Thornton knew his father."

"Your boss's father?" Jack asked.

Mac was the one who shook his head. "She means Thornton knew my father. Way back then …"

She nodded. "What Murdoc told Mac was true. James MacGyver infiltrated the Organization for … I don't remember," she mumbled drowsily.

He shuddered. Jack thought maybe Mac was fading at this point in the interrogation. "I told you Mac doesn't feel like he can trust anybody. Nothing you've told us exactly makes that better. Just look at him. You said you couldn't let him die …"

"I can't," Nikki said. "I watch him, you know … to make sure they don't try …" she trailed off again.

Only Jack saw the little shiver Mac gave at that little admission. He couldn't blame the kid. After how much this must be spinning Mac's head, he was going to get them their objective. "He needs to go in to Phoenix, Nikki."

Mac shifted his position and started to get up from the floor, noting just how wide and full of tears Nikki's eyes were now. He said with just a little anger tingeing his words, "I told you Jack, not until we get …"

Mac's legs apparently went out from under him and he crumpled to the floor. Jack was crouching down beside his partner immediately. He took Mac's pulse. Mac was immediately pushing Jack's hands away and trying to sit up, but he gasped as he did so. Jack looked directly into the eyes of the bound woman in the chair, a pleading expression on his face and in his voice. "Nikki, you've got to tell me where to find Murdoc. It's the only way Mac is gonna let me bring him in to get taken care of."

Mac's bright blue eyes were glued to her face from his position on the floor. "Nikki, please."

She nodded. "347 Normanstone Terrace. That's the safe house. If Murdoc is anywhere in the city, it's with our people there."

Jack grinned and hopped to his feet. "You get that, Ri?" he called.

Over a mic, Riley replied, "Transmitting the coordinates to tactical now. They'll meet us there."

Nikki was starting to look confused as Todd left the room to be replaced by Steve who first took her vitals to be sure she was okay to be transported and then began cutting loose her zip ties. Jack was helping Mac to his feet. She frowned at how easily he was moving. "Mac?" she asked from her frustrated fog.

She looked awfully vulnerable and was higher than a kite. Mac almost felt bad. But considering she'd nearly gotten him killed repeatedly and had been stalking him on top of everything else, he couldn't quite get there. "Brazil, Nikki." She frowned, so he helpfully supplied, "I just did to you what Jack did to Eloá Sosa in Brazil."

Even drugged to the gills, Nikki was immediately furious. "You son of a bitch."

Mac gave her a cocky grin that he didn't quite feel as he headed out the door and down the hall, walking like someone who'd never been injured in their life. Agent Stone was waiting by the door as Jack led a stumbling Nikki out. Mac was at the kitchen counter peeling off the bloody shirt that had been saved from his encounter with Murdoc. "Hot damn, this thing stinks," he said, wadding it up and tossing it on the dirty floor, pulling on a clean one from his bag.

Nikki caught a glimpse of his bruised and bandaged torso, and somewhere deep in her twisted mind she was satisfied that he hadn't actually faked being hurt with her. She told herself that his teammates just didn't know how badly off he really was; that he was faking being okay with them. Mac would never really lie to her. Not really. Jack almost shivered at the catlike smile he saw playing on her lips as he handed her off to Stone. The agent tipped his chin at Jack, "Sorry about that shot to the ribs, man. I didn't know you were already hurt and I was tryin' to make it look good."

Jack gave him a grin as he stopped the agent and applied twist ties going in two different directions around the cuffs on Nikki's wrists. "No worries, dude. That black eye tells me we're even. Couple of beers when we close out here and I say it's bygones."

Stone grinned back, "I'm buyin' though man. Nice work here."

With that he started leading Nikki out to the car he had waiting that had another agent in the front, a driver, and one already waiting in back for the two of them. Phoenix was taking no chances with Nikki Carpenter this time. "Where are we going?" Nikki finally asked, now starting to feel a little sleepy as her body started metabolizing the drug she'd been given.

Stone guided her into the car so she wouldn't hit her dopey head. "Right where the boss told us to. The jet. Right on time."

"Aren't you going to read me my rights?" she asked, definitely not with it at all.

Jack heard him answer as he pulled the door closed. "You've got the right to disappear into a black hole along with the other terrorists I've ever brought in."

When Jack stepped back inside Mac was giving Steve a familiar stubborn glare. "How many times do I have to say 'I'm fine' before you'll believe me?" he huffed.

"Alright, alright. You're 'fine'," he held up his hands. "What about you Dalton? Did this little op put you off your feed or anything?" The question was asked with light sarcasm, but he wanted Jack to have the opportunity to report any new injuries that might get in the way on the next leg of this gig.

Jack shrugged. "Still feel like I got sliced like pastrami and blown up. But I'm good to go to bust Murdoc's head if that's what you're askin'." He noticed Mac slipping into his leather coat and checking the contents of his pockets. "You ready to go finish this thing, bud?"

Mac nodded and gave Jack a half smile that he knew his partner needed to see. "I've never been more ready for something to be over in my life."


	32. Chapter 32

The ride from the slum where they'd executed their successful play to get actionable intel to the swanky neighborhood Nikki had directed them to was long and predictably fraught with traffic. Mac sipped at the coffee Todd had stopped for, eschewing the donuts the rest of the team was predictably chowing down on in favor of staring out the window. He felt Jack's eyes on him again and turned in his seat so Jack could see he wasn't avoiding conversation.

"What is it Jack?"

Jack looked like he was chewing for a minute and Mac could see that it wasn't on an expected bite of donut, but rather he seemed to be chewing his words, deciding if they tasted good enough to share. "That was pretty intense back there, brother."

Mac nodded, taking another sip of coffee. He was so damned tired out from everything that happened he didn't think he could get enough of the stuff to shake the feeling that he needed to sleep for a week. "Looking forward to getting home and crashing for a couple of days."

Matty was usually very good about making sure her people got time off, even not taking into account the injuries her ops teams were often nursing for a week or so after coming in from the field, she made sure everyone got down time and a change for a life outside of work. Sometimes the tendency drove him crazy, especially when she always seemed to err on the side of caution when it came to recovery times after rough missions. Right now, however, Mac was grateful for it.

Jack didn't quite look him in the eye as he said, "I hope Bozer is around a little. I don't think you should be alone right after this mission."

Mac gave him a funny look. "You're not going to come over to eat take out and watch your lifetime supply of action movies like you usually do? What gives?"

"I didn't know if you'd want me around," Jack said quietly.

"I always want you around, Jackass; even when you drive me nuts." Mac shook his head. "I thought we covered all of this." He paused. "Hell, you know the spare bedroom is yours. We meant it when we said if you ever get tired of rattling around that little shithole you call a bachelor pad you can just move in."

"I just thought maybe … I mean … you've never been overly cool with that aspect of the job … and it was Nikki … and I know you're a pacifist …"

"Okay, for starters, you say that all the time and it's a blatantly fallacious characterization of my philosophy. By definition a pacifist refuses to perform military service or take part in war. Trying to find alternatives to violence doesn't make someone a pacifist. I'm a rational person, Jack. Sometimes violence is unavoidable." Mac's eyes were daring Jack to argue, but Jack just nodded, appropriately chastened by the fresh vocabulary lesson. "Secondly, I've been tortured. On multiple occasions." Jack winced, but didn't say anything. "Just because I know it's effective doesn't mean I have to like it. And sometimes it's just hard for me to accept that you are that good at something that's so foreign to me. Just like how good a sniper you are. It doesn't make me want to distance myself from you or anything, just sometimes it causes a little … cognitive dissonance … You know?"

Jack smiled. Up until very recently, Mac had eschewed almost all terms associated with the field of psychology, saying it was a soft science. Sissy had helpfully pointed out that people are, in fact, mostly soft. Jack didn't remind him of that, just nodded. "Okay, I get ya, but the whole Nikki thing …"

This time Mac reached out and patted Jack on the arm, careful to avoid any of the spots he knew were bandaged, even though Jack was currently concealing those injuries under a long-sleeved black Henley. "It was my idea Jack. And actually it was how pissed off she was about you pulling that off with the mole in Brazil that made me want to do it. I thought it would work, sure. But I also wanted her to know what I did. Wanted her to feel a moment of betrayal. I'm not proud of that."

Mac looked away again. Jack didn't force him to look back his way, but returned the reassuring pat, equally carefully. "I'll be proud enough for both of us. After everything she's done to you, she had that comin' more than anything else. Especially after that whole 'watching you' thing. Brrrr." Jack gave an exaggerated shiver.

This time Mac glanced back Jack's way, pressing his back into the seat and shifting uncomfortably. "That's so freakin' creepy. Every time I think of it, it makes my skin crawl."

Jack nodded, "You should talk to Matty and …"

"When I was on the phone with her while we were waiting for confirmation from tactical, Matty already offered to send a team in to sweep for bugs, cameras, and all that before we get home."

"Good. I'll check out the whole neighborhood for ya, bud. See if I can find any hidey holes and that sort of thing."

Mac smiled at him. "I appreciate that. I need some place that feels clean after this."

"Clean?" Jack prodded.

"This whole op … It's screwed up my love life, dredged up memories that were maybe better off buried, kicked the hell out of me physically … and the Organization has my shrink's files, has been watching me since I was a kid …" Mac's voice was starting to rise just a little, his tight control faltering, stuttering for a split second.

They were pulling onto the street where the safe house was located. Jack could see Tactical surrounding the house. They had air support, too. It was goddamned beautiful to have a boss that didn't dick around with this stuff and who knew how to get cooperation from just about every other military or intelligence entity out there.

"Don't you worry brother. We'll make sure your house is clean and then we'll start pulling at some more of these threads until your whole life is completely web free."

Mac tipped him a smile, sticking his empty cup in the trash and preparing to get out of the vehicle.

0-0-0

Taking the house was remarkably simple. The brick structure on the unassuming double lot behind a simple wrought iron fence had, what were to Riley, almost insulting uncomplicated security measures. But, it had taken her some time to hack the system. They were delayed further by having to set up decontamination protocols outside and then don gas masks and protective clothing. She discovered one measure she wasn't able to disable; a manually triggered toxic gas dispersal system that once the Organization operatives became aware of the breach, could be set off from multiple locations in the house. It was armed with a fairly common nerve agent, but as with most nerve gas, even minimal exposure could be deadly, or permanently disabling, and the treatment of atropine and the neutralizing agent could be just as deadly as the gas itself. While no one regretted the time it took them to prepare to go in to face that obstacle, everyone was pleased when they were able to prevent its deployment and secure the five operatives who were spread out between the kitchen and the beautiful sun porch, as though they were just young professionals lucky enough to score a rental in one of the most sought after neighborhoods in the greater capitol region. There was no sign of Murdoc or any kind of medical equipment. In fact there wasn't so much as a first aid kit, even under the bathroom sink. The team went through the house top to bottom twice with no luck. Several hours later, Mac was leaning against the van. Lacking a decent LZ in the neighborhood, the evac helicopter that was prepared to take a critically injured suspect to a secure wing in the nearby military hospital had landed in a high school football field not far off and was on standby. Riley came over and put her rig on the hood of the van and leaned up against it next to him.

"Do you think she lied?"

Mac shrugged. "She's a hell of a liar." Riley could see that his brain was working a mile a second and she couldn't help wonder what he was thinking. He didn't keep her wondering for long. "I think she was telling the truth about this though … And I think he's here."

"What makes you so sure?"

He glanced at her and stuffed his hands in the pockets of his jeans. "You know in nature videos how the prey animal seems to sense the predator is nearby … and it just kind of freezes. Then the music gets tense and you know everything is going to blow apart and get bloody in the next few seconds?"

"Yeah?"

"I feel like freezing," he admitted. She was going to offer some comforting platitude, when suddenly Mac's eyes lit up. "Wait … Can you pull up the power grid for this neighborhood?"

Riley's eyebrows knitted together, even as she turned toward her laptop and pulled it toward her, heedless of the paintjob on the van's hood, her fingers flying over the keyboard. "Yeah … Here it is? Now what?"

She spun the laptop toward him. Mac scanned the images and data for a few minutes. "Can you get me real time data?" Riley nodded and she pulled the computer back toward herself, immediately going back to work. After a few minutes, she turned it toward him again, watching his face as he squinted at the screen. "How hard would it be to cut the power on this block?" Mac asked, almost like he was just wondering to himself rather than asking Riley to accomplish something. She didn't wait to see if he was just thinking out loud though and just did what he asked with a few quick keystrokes. Mac started nodding his head, looking at the changing images and information in front of him. His eyes combed the street, flicking back to the screen every few seconds. He murmured, "That's the solar panels on the blue house back feeding to the grid … He looked in the other direction. "And that's the Tesla wall and roof there … Here." Mac pointed at the laptop. Riley just widened her eyes in brief confusion. Jack approached just as he started to explain. "See here. That's the safe house." Both of his teammates looked at him a little blankly. "There's power showing up here." They nodded. "No solar panels, no wind turbines, no Tesla tech like the rest of the neighborhood."

Jack nodded a little more vigorously as he caught on. "Generator."

"Okay," Riley conceded. "But where is it? We didn't see one when we searched the place."

Mac tilted his head to one side, squinting like he was doing some deep thinking. Riley and Jack learned quickly that he was listening. He took a few steps toward the house and waved for them to join him. Then he pointed at his ear so they'd catch on. "You hear that?"

Jack nodded. "That's gotta be comin' from underground."

Mac nodded and waved at Todd so he could clue him in and get working with the interdepartmental tac team. "Basement."

"There isn't a basement," Riley began. "It's too swampy around here for that mostly and …" The situation fully dawned on her. "Hidden bunker. Well, shit."

0-0-0

Since nothing was showing up on any scans of the area using tech, the team suited up again in the event of more dangerous security measures before heading back inside to find an entrance to whatever it was the Organization had hidden under ground. Mac and Riley worked together to soup up one of their mics in the hopes that it could pinpoint the origin of the generator sound and started slowly scanning the house. After another few hours of nothing other than vague indications that there was something under the house but no point where it was louder, they went back outside and pulled off their sweaty protective head gear. They were sitting on the bumper of the van drinking some bottled water when Jack stood up, cocking his head to one side. Mac and Riley both put down their drinks and got up, too.

"What's up, old man?" Riley asked. Jack pretended to be kind of a random guy, but Riley knew he almost never did anything without a purpose. That's how a guy who'd been doing what he did for as long as he had stayed alive.

"The grass over there," Jack gestured to the yard in the far back corner of the lot. "It's a different green than the rest."

Mac and Riley both squinted at it. Mac spoke first. "I don't see it."

Riley shrugged, "Me either."

Jack started moving closer to the spot. "Look at it. It's more blue than the rest. Just a hair though." Still his younger teammates didn't see what he meant. "It's all in the same light, guys."

Slowly Mac nodded and started walking toward the spot, brushing his still-sweaty hair out of his face. "That's a damned subtle difference. Jesus, Jack. No wonder you're such a good sniper. Is being from Texas a cover story? I'm starting to think maybe you're from Krypton."

Jack snickered and punched him lightly on the arm. "I knew we had to be related somehow."

When they got to the rear of the lot, all three of them crouched down. Mac ran his hands over the grass that looked different and then the grass next to it. "Feels exactly the same." He listened for a minute. "The sound is just a little louder over here though."

Riley nodded. Her hearing was better than either of the guys, having been blown up a hell of a lot less frequently. "Definitely louder, but it's through some kind of soundproofing for sure. It's more like I can feel the sound." She touched her chest just below the hollow of her throat. "Like right here. It's low."

Jack was frowning at Mac as the younger man picked a blade of the grass and bit into it with his front teeth. "We're tasting things now? Gross."

Mac tossed it aside with a grin. "It's fake. Really good fake grass. If turf was like this in stadiums no one would ever complain." He started feeling around trying to discern the subtle differences between the synthetic and real grass and after a minute his expression changed. Jack grinned, waving to Todd that they were about to need the team. Riley gave Jack a questioning frown.

"He's got that knowing look that he gets when he knows something."

Mac flashed a quick smile as his fingers found the well hidden edge of the artificial turf. After digging around for another minute he was able to separate the false roots from the real ones and roll back the almost perfect square of grass, revealing a heavy trap door with a keypad and another device that was clearly meant for someone to put their face up to it.

Jack peered into the device. "Retinal scanner?"

Mac looked it over. "I think this is an iris recognition device."

"A huh?" Jack asked. He loved tech, he just didn't spend much time thinking about it or researching it like his teammates did.

Riley answered as Mac looked more closely at both security interfaces. "Retinal scanners have gotten really commercially popular over the last decade or so, which means loads of people have figured out how to fool them. An iris recognition device has a lot of the same problems, but they're less widely known and therefore less likely to be hacked mostly because people who show up make the same assumption you did."

"How does it work? Could you just use any old eyeball if it had the right color iris?" Jack was thinking that while Mac's eyes were a fairly unusual shade of blue and Riley's were an almost hypnotic hazel, his own medium coffee brown could probably pass for a lot of people's if somebody wasn't looking too closely.

Mac shook his head and picked up the explanation. "In the near infrared spectrum even dark brown eyes that look the same in more visible light analysis have rich textural variations. Iris recognition software uses complex mathematical formulas to …"

"Okay, it's too mathy to fool. Gotcha," Jack interrupted before Mac could start explaining the formulae. Jack had a mind like a steel trap for things like tactics, history, and human behavior, but math always made his head ache. "So what so we do?"

Todd was standing over them now, looking at the set up. "I say we blow it."

Jack waited for Mac to make some objection or offer some alternative. Instead the blond head bobbed once in agreement as he got stiffly to his feet. "Yeah. That makes sense."

Jack and Riley stood too. Riley couldn't stop herself from commenting, "Really? You don't want to have me try to hack it? Or you could maybe …"

Mac just stepped away, motioning for the tac teams Bureau guy who was their access to explosives in the area. "Blowing it gets us in there quick and clean. And it gets us back on a plane for the right side of the country."

He started talking to Special Agent Michaels. Riley widened her eyes at Jack and Todd. Jack's eyes followed his friend as he watched him head over to the truck that had all the tactical gear and supplies. Mac was starting to list to the right as he walked and he was moving slower than Jack was accustomed to seeing. Mac rolled his head around like he was trying to loosen his neck up as he waited for Michaels to pull the gear he'd asked for. Jack shrugged at his other teammates. "Dude's hurt. He's exhausted. And he's got an awful lot of new garbage, new questions bouncing around in that ginormous brain of his. I know he wants to … _needs to_ see this mission through. But right now, I think he's already more than half at home on his deck with the City of Angels stretched out in front of him, a beer in his hand, and some peace and quiet to put himself back together in. You know?"

Mac rejoined them then and Jack and Riley backed off, letting the explosives experts rig the door. It was a small controlled explosion that made only the vaguest of popping sounds and sent up a small cloud of dust. Jack felt the edge of his lips tugged up by his affection when he saw the grin on Mac's face as his plan was executed perfectly. Jack could picture the same expression on a much younger version of that face when he got his hands on his first chemistry set. In his pleasure at things working the way he envisioned them Mac forgot himself for a second and moved to help the other guys lift the heavy door up and away. He stumbled back, pressing his right hand against his shoulder and squeezing his eyes shut. Steve stepped in then and ordered Mac to go take a seat. Mac looked prepared to argue but as he took a step away from the medic his eyes narrowed again and he gave a reluctant nod. Mac and Riley walked silently over to the van while Jack and Todd joined the rest of the tac team in clearing the underground chamber. They didn't speak while they leaned there. After a while Mac sunk down onto the bumper again, just watching that open square of earth. Jack was the first team member back up top, following a man of about thirty and a woman who was perhaps a little older, both wearing dirty scrubs and handcuffs. Jack handed them off to waiting agents and they were whisked away in the back of a car with darkened windows before they even had a chance to look around. Jack tipped his team members a nod and was about to just head back below. He caught Mac's expression and jogged over.

"We've got him, kid. He's alive. Not really conscious. We'll get him topside, use the ambulance to transport him to the helicopter, and then Matty's gonna oversee his transport to our secure facility. He's in bad shape, but Steve is looking over the notes the Organization people have been keeping and he thinks he'll recover, at least partially."

Mac was nodding, but didn't say anything.

"We'll question him when he's out of the woods, bud. In person. At length."

This time Mac gave him a small smile. "Yeah," was all he said as Jack jogged back to the entrance and Mac half smiled at the reluctant look Jack gave that hole before he once again disappeared below the ground.

Before long, the team maneuvered Murdoc on a backboard up and out of the narrow entrance. Steve and a number of other medical team members moved him, and the equipment he came up with, to a stretched and then got the wheels under it, carefully moving their patient/suspect toward the waiting ambulance. Jack stayed with the team until they got to the back of the ambulance. He glanced Mac's way and then back at the stretcher. Mac could see an expression of reluctance on Jack's face even from a distance. After a few more glances back and forth, Jack jogged over. "Hey … um, Mac … Murdoc wants to give you something."

Mac frowned. "But they've got him on a manual resuscitator. And that's not a mask they're using. They're using an endotracheal tube. He should be out cold for that. I can see it from here. And trust me, from here is the closest I want to get to seeing it. "

Jack nodded, making a small disgusted face. "Yeah. Be that as it may, he's conscious and he's got something in his hand. He keeps pointing your way. I'm not saying you should go over there, bud," Jack hedged gently. "I just figured you'd want to know."

Mac nodded and stood up. Jack didn't miss the way he swayed for a minute. Kid needed to get off his feet and soon, or where he spent time resting and recovering would wind up not being his own decision. But, Jack resisted the urge to steady him. The look on Mac's face and he walked purposefully toward Murdoc forbade even a slight supportive touch. When he got to the edge of the stretcher, Murdoc's dark eyes snapped open, almost like he could sense the younger man's presence. He weakly stretched out his hand and dropped something into Mac's waiting palm. Mac took the piece of paper and smoothed it open as Murdoc was loaded into the back of the rig. Jack saw Mac's face lose what color it had as he caught up to him. As the ambulance pulled away, Mac handed him the piece of paper and just silently walked back toward the van, climbed in, and slid the door closed. Jack stood staring at the piece of paper for a long moment before putting it into his pocket and going back to the vehicle himself. It was a short note, but it told Jack their lives weren't going to get quiet any time soon, no matter what Mac needed or Jack wanted for him.

 _Dear boy,_

 _Stace Alan Smithee. Do look him up._

 _Tell him that I'll be seeing you both soon._

 _M._

Jack couldn't tell if Mac was really already sleeping with his head resting against the window or if he was just doing a good job faking it (and Mac's performance with Nikki told Jack that Mac was a better actor than he'd ever admit to) but he decided not to bother him.

Truth be told, he didn't really want to talk about that note either.


	33. Chapter 33

Riley flinched as lightning flashed outside her window. She didn't normally mind flying, but there was something about thunderstorms in the air that made her edgy. When he heard her sharp little intake of breath, Jack glanced up from the couch where he was sprawled out playing some video game on his tablet. He tossed it to the side and sat up. "You can't sleep either, huh?"

She shook her head. "I know it's dumb. We fly in storms all the time, but … I guess this must be how Mac feels whenever we're in the air, because all I can think of is how far we are from the ground if something goes wrong because of the weather."

Jack chuckled. "I hear ya. Don't bother me any though. I've made jumps in weather worse than this."

She smiled at him. "I forget you started out as a Ranger sometimes. How many countries' wings did you say you have?"

Jack gave her a cocky grin. "Four. That I can tell you about."

She thought for a minute and got up to move over next to him on the couch. There was something innately reassuring about Jack's presence just now. He looked at her fondly, thinking when she was twelve, next to him and her mom on the couch had been her favorite spot during thunderstorms on the ground, too. Although he would bet money that she didn't remember that or if she did she'd never admit it. "If it's not the storm, what's keeping you up? I mean it's a short flight, but you look like you could use the sleep. The way he was fussing over you guys, I'm sure Steve would have given you something so you could catch a nap."

She tipped her chin at the medic who was sitting further forward in a quiet corner Facetiming with his wife and singing softly to their new baby and their little girl to help her get them to sleep. Jack shook his head and shushed her. "I'm alright, Ri. I mean, he isn't wrong. I've felt better. But, I'll crash when we get home. Just thinking about Mac and … well, everything."

They both looked over at the other couch. Mac was curled onto his right side, one sock-clad foot hanging off the edge, a soft blue blanket wrapped haphazardly around him, face slack and mouth open slightly. He mumbled softly every once in a while, but it was obvious that he was really out and not just engaged in the lie-still-so-nobody-talks-to-me sham sleep that was so often his post-mission defense mechanism. "He looks like a little kid right now. Do I look that young when I'm asleep?" Riley wondered out loud.

Jack chuckled. "Pretty much. Enjoy it while it lasts. Once you hit middle age all the drool stops looking cute and everyone is just picturin' you as an old man."

She snickered, but it stopped quickly as she frowned at Mac's sleeping form. "Is he okay, do you think? He hasn't said much since …"

Jack nodded. "He'll be alright. Physically anyway. Steve said he's running a little fever, but with his injuries and pushing himself before he started to really heal, it's not anything to worry about. Or at least it's not unexpected. I'm not altogether sure Steve won't insist on him occupying a spot at Medical for a day or two, though." Jack rolled his eyes. "We'll get him squared away. Even if it kills us." He chuckled. "Which it might."

"What about mentally? This mission was crazy town."

"That's a little more complicated." Jack ran a hand over his short hair and then passed it over the stubble along his jaw a few times. "This has been a lot for him to deal with. And I'll be honest with you, Ri, he's started recovering some repressed memories, from when he was a kid and from the war … That's always rough. I tell you, it was years before my first combat experience really came back to me … And I'd had plenty more in the meantime." He paused and took a long slow breath. "But there's something about being smacked with a real memory that belongs to you that you have no control over … It kind of kicks your ass." He blushed a little at the memory of that first experience of having to acknowledge his own PTSD. "I was with CIA at the time and Sarah … She found me in the bathtub in a shitty little motel room drinkin' aged tequila out of the bottle with a straw shaking like a leaf in the goddamned rain. Bless her heart, when I told her why, she just went and bought me some limes."

"This isn't the first time that's happened though," Riley said, but the statement was tinged with a hint of a question.

"No, ma'am, it's not. But throw in Murdoc's note on top of all that …"

"Neither one of you has said much about that other than to tell Matty during our call before takeoff. Seems pretty random to me and we all know he's crazy and kind of obsessed with Mac. But why is it such a big deal?"

Jack was thoughtful. "Well, Mac's kind of assuming it's related to his father and an assumed identity, maybe even the one he was using when he infiltrated the Organization if … and that's a big if … that part of Murdoc's story is true. I'm inclined to agree with him."

"Why would you guys think ..?"

Jack shook his head. "Much time as you spend around Bozer, I'm a little surprised it didn't jump right out at you. The second part of it anyway." Riley just frowned at him. " _Alan Smithee_ is a Hollywood thing."

"I guess it kind of rings a bell, but damned if I know which one," she shrugged.

"It's a name directors use when they don't want their name on a project … Like they are totally down with the pay day, but they don't want a thing known as part of their body of work. For someone with an odd sense of humor and maybe a little knowledge of how things operate out on the left coast, it would make a decent undercover name if you were on an op for the objective but didn't want it tied to your career."

"So that note was about some spy's lame dad joke of a _nom de guerre_? Why does it have to be Mac's old man?"

" _Some spy_ is one way to put it." Jack paused. He did dearly love working with these two. Both just sharp as tacks and bound to have brilliant careers if he could keep them alive long enough. "And dad joke is appropriate since _James MacGyver_ is another way. See, that note makes Murdoc's story more plausible than anything else he said."

"Why?"

"The name Stace. See that's a pretty unusual name. And it isn't one that would just jump right out to someone looking into Mac's life to try to weave a story. But for Mac's dad, it might have been important enough to be part of a mission."

Riley was about to ask another question when Mac's deep voice joined the conversation. "Stace was my dad's big brother. And he idolized him." Mac pushed himself into a sitting position and scrubbed his hands over his face, trying to push the exhaustion and pervasive aches to the back of his mind again. "I don't remember him at all. He was in a couple of my baby pictures with me and my father, but he went down in a friendly fire incident in Iraq and he died."

Not knowing what else she might say, Riley offered, "That's too bad."

Mac just nodded, wincing a little as the movement pulled on his shoulder. "My dad thought he was the world's biggest hero. And I don't think he ever forgave him for it."

Riley put a small gentle smile behind her words now, "What a funny way to put it."

Jack spoke then, his eyes never leaving Mac's face. "Sometimes it's the people we've lost that are the hardest to make peace with, Ri."

She nodded, thinking of how easy it had been to stay mad at Jack for leaving her and her mom, of how quickly she'd been able to reconcile that relationship when he was there to yell at a little. "I guess that makes sense. But some fake name? Why does it have you guys going all broody when usually you'd either be pretending to sleep or emptying the mini bar?"

Mac answered this time, lying back down and pulling the blanket around himself again when he caught Steve glaring at him from the front of the air craft. "I've been hunting all over hell and gone for James MacGyver. And that was just dumb, although I didn't know it. Now that I know he had another life, a life like mine, and at least one of his identities? Now I have a place to really start."

Mac closed his eyes. Jack and Riley sat for a while just thinking. Riley saw Jack's face split into a grin. "You know that I know you're not really sleepin' right?"

"Shut up, Jack," was the whispered reply. "You're gonna get me in trouble with our medic. And I am _not_ staying at Medical when we get home."

Riley started giggling. "You were never really sleeping at all! You've just gotten better at faking it!"

Jack started laughing, too. "Somebody call the Oscars. Our boy needs one of those shiny statues for this performance."

Mac cracked one eye open. "I swear if he comes back here now, I am never speaking to either one of you again."

With that he let the look of perfectly peaceful sleep smooth his face. He had a hard time maintaining it when he heard Steve shuffle back to where they all were and give the two of them a whispered chewing out about being noisy and potentially waking up his patient who, in case they had forgotten, had been stabbed, knocked around, blown up, and on the go for days, and who was, for a change, actually following doctor's orders. When they touched down and disembarked Steve commented on how much better he looked after a few hours of sleep and that if Mac could promise to rest like that after they were done at Phoenix he might feel okay about letting him go home. When Steve walked away to climb into the car Phoenix sent to bring them in for the debrief, Mac stuck his tongue out at Riley and Jack as he headed for the car, opting to get in the passenger seat next to their driver and avoid further conversation.

"I take it back," Riley said, grinning with an affection and frustration she though must be common to everyone who knew and cared about Mac.

"Take what back?" Jack asked.

"That little brat looks younger when he's awake."

Jack laughed and picked up his pace to catch up with his partner.


	34. Chapter 34

While the debrief was reasonably smooth, even including taking note of all the cross-agency paperwork that would need to be filed for various aspects of it, it had gone on for quite a long while. By the time they were wrapping up they had been awake all night and it was nearly lunch time. Mac was actually trying to remember the last time he'd slept or eaten properly when Matty snapped his attention back to the present with an order to follow Steve down to Medical. He immediately protested that he was fine, but thanks for the concern all the same. She frowned at him in a way that made him want to fidget like a kid, or like a MacGyver who had just met her months ago, if he was being honest.

"Did I give you the impression that I was asking if you wanted to go to Medical, Mac? Because I don't need to ask questions that I already know the answer to. That's an easy one to remember, too, since it's always the same. _No_."

He looked at the ceiling, the feeling of being a kid in the principal's office intensifying. _Why was she so damned good at that?_

"I'm telling you to go and I'm also telling you to do whatever it is Steve or anyone else down there tells you to. Up to and including climbing into one of their very nice beds and staying there." He opened his mouth to speak again, but Matty just said sharply, "Without arguing."

He rolled his eyes and stuffed his hands into his pockets, but followed Steve out of the conference room without another word, knowing his laundry list of injuries was already part of the mission report in front of her so it was a fight he wasn't going to win.

Matty shook her head. "MacGyver thinks he can argue his way out of anything he can't blow up or take apart. Like I can't see that he's running a fever from across the room. Pfff."

Jack grinned and shook his head. "If eye rolling were an Olympic sport that kid would definitely make the team and probably medal up early."

Matty yanked out the chair that Jack had been resting his feet on. "You too, Dalton. Head down there, on the double." Jack made his most innocent wide-eyed face and she gave him an eye roll that would have impressed even Mac. "Do I strike you as someone who fails to read any part of reports that are sent to me? And you seem to forget I was in town for a lot of this op." She narrowed her eyes at him. "Getting carved up like a human sushi roll and almost vaporized by a bomb less than eighteen hours later and you think I'm letting you waltz out of here. You're as bad as Mac. You are both a massive insurance liability."

"Matty, I …"

"Go!" she ordered. She was pleased to see Jack take her order of double time seriously as he hot footed it to the elevator.

Riley snickered as she got up from the table, tucking her laptop into her bag. Matty looked at her with an amused raised eyebrow. "What's so funny, Miss Davis?"

"Just … When I asked you about the job, about having a life a while back, you told me it was easy for you because you never wanted kids …"

"And?" Matty prompted.

"I'm sorry to tell you, Boss, but you've got at least two." She snickered again.

"If I do, so do you," Matty chuckled. "We better work on co-parenting or they are definitely going to get themselves killed."

0-0-0

Although Mac had been adamant about his earlier assertion, with his fever and other signs of infection, he couldn't quite avoid spending the night at Medical. Steve's gently worded encouragement to do so and his colleague Dr. Foster's less agreeable opinion, accompanied by a suggestion to call DO Webber, had resulted in Mac just snapping, "Fine". With a fair amount of bad temper, he went to change into sweats and a t-shirt Milton brought down from his gym locker before climbing into bed for the night. He did not however, agree to much medical intervention; rather, after tolerating a very minimal examination, he insisted he was conscious, not feeling particularly ill, and quite capable of swallowing pills and fluids so they could keep their IVs and whatever else they were thinking of right in the locked cabinet where they belonged. And in case they missed the implication, his own bed was just as acceptable a place for what he actually needed. Steve shrugged, saying he had some valid points about the level of care he needed, but it was a pretty weak case for going home, considering how badly he'd been hurt and how much he'd done in that condition.

Steve said, with no apologies that, despite Mac proving he knew how to rest as instructed on the plane that amounted to a short nap, and he'd feel better about a night of observation before cutting him loose. Jack had raised his eyebrows at Mac like he was thinking about telling Steve the truth, but after one pleading look from his partner, Dalton kept silent. Mostly the evening involved Mac watching bad cable and glaring at everyone. Jack agreed to stay himself because Steve was worried about his concussion, but he climbed into bed more because he didn't want to leave Mac than because he thought he needed to; although rubbing in that Mac's earlier ' _act_ ' hadn't held up on closer inspection gave him more joy than it probably should have. It almost made up for the fact that Steve did his due diligence and checked the date on Jack's last tetanus booster instead of just taking his word from DC. Not that he'd whine about it, or ever admit that he hated shots nearly as much as his younger partner who had a helluva lot more reason to do so; but it sucked an above average amount in Jack's humble opinion. At least Mac had been sympathetic. More or less, anyway.

The next morning Mac was up and dressed and destroying a fair amount of paper clips before Jack even opened his eyes, and well before any staff showed up to consider discharging either of them to home for further recovery. When he came in, much too late to suit Mac's preferences, Steve fulfilled his usual job of coming up with a compromise for his stubborn teammates and laid out terms that would result in them both leaving the building with medical approval. Jack had to use prescription antibiotic ointment and oral antibiotics, change his bandages at least once a day, and take it at least a little easy for a week. Also, he was ordered to downright baby his ribs. No sparring or combat training until he came back in to have his other stitches removed and a follow-up x-ray. Jack had agreed, saying he had the good sense to do what they all suggested so he could spend as little time there as possible. Mac had to cross his heart, pinkie swear, Scout's honor, promise to take the antibiotics that were prescribed to him and agree to resting a great deal and confining his activities to walking and basic household necessities, not to mention that he had to wear a sling to immobilize his healing shoulder as much as possible. And come back in when Jack did to have his own stitches removed and get an MRI to make sure the repair done in DC was holding since he'd been active so immediately afterward. Mac had sworn to follow all of those instructions, more because he wanted out than because he had any intention of doing so.

Jack noted with some amusement as they were leaving the building that Mac hadn't even crossed his fingers behind his back when he lied. Then he said, "Full disclosure, I almost told Steve you got kicked out of the Scouts so that wasn't really a good oath for you. He should have made you swear on the periodic table or somethin'."

Mac had laughed as he got into Jack's car. "Shut up, Jack. Like you're any better."

0-0-0

The next few days passed with the guys mostly following the instructions given to them by Medical, probably more because Matty made sure Riley and Bozer knew what those instructions were than because the guys actually gave a damn about compliance once the people keeping them from their pizza, beer, and outdoor fire were out of the immediate picture. On the fourth day, Riley and Bozer returned to the office, since Matty assumed at that point if the guys did something stupid there was nothing either tech nerd was going to do to stop it.

They were stretched out in the sun on the deck when Jack decided the time had come to talk everything through so they were at least on the same page when they went back to work the following Wednesday and things got real again. Granted they had to go through Medical as agreed before Matty would let them back into the Ready Room, but Jack was pretty sure they were both there already and they still had a few days to figure this out. Jack knew his audience well enough to start slow.

"Goddamn, it's nice to have everybody out of our hair."

Mac opened his eyes and tossed a look Jack's way, "What little you have, yeah."

Jack snorted with amusement. He and Mac both knew he had a full head of hair. He just kept it cropped close out of habit and a desire to look as sharp and intimidating as possible. "We'll get cleared back in next week, no problem. Probably good to go now, I think," Jack prompted, even though he suspected Mac's shoulder was going to be the fly in his ointment for a little while.

"Yeah, me, too," Mac replied, face turned toward the sun, eyes closed again.

Jack cleared his throat. "So … what we gonna do with that?"

Mac actually sat up and turned toward him, shaking his head with good natured annoyance at Jack's pussyfooting around, "Jesus, Jack, I don't know! Whatever Matty tells us to, like always, I guess."

Jack shook his head, not quite sure how to put his brief conversation with Matty into acceptable terms. "Yeah, Matty has an agenda. Which, right now, is figure out what the Organization really is, and whether or not her predecessor belongs underground for treason." Mac nodded, acknowledging the logic of that, but not saying anything. "You might not want it, Mac, but Matty may just lay the responsibility for the next decisions about this on you."

"What the hell for?" Mac was vaguely furious, but part of him knew what Jack was going to say.

"You're right in the middle of this whether you want to be or not, Mac. It's kind of about you, somehow. I mean, Nikki was openly trying to recruit you at first, and even her pretend stint at CIA was all about undermining your confidence in what you do."

Mac nodded. "If I were Matty I'd say that means I'm too close to the mission to be objective."

Jack snorted. "I think you put paid to any doubts she ever had. You've shown her time and again that you're 'the guy'. And this mission, you made the tough calls, calls that cost you, not just recklessly, like she maybe assumed before, but because they were the right thing." Jack paused, hoping Mac would look at him, but the kid just kept up a faraway stare into the skyline. "Then there was the 'Jack Dalton' move that told her you weren't just a kid taken up by his passions."

Mac's eyes flicked toward him, but all the kid did was open up two fresh beers and pass one to Jack.

Jack took a sip and shook his head. "So, we're not gonna talk about it, huh?"

"No … I mean … about what … I … nothing …" Mac looked very deliberately away, irritated with momentary inability to be even slightly articulate and brush this off.

"Mac … buddy …" Mac still didn't look at Jack. "Angus!" This time Mac turned toward Jack to glower at him over using his birth name. When he had his attention, Jack reached out and squeezed the younger man's shoulder for just a second. "I know what you did, Mac. Matty told me." He waited a long minute. "Thank you, brother. Everyone should be as important to someone as that makes me feel."

Mac glanced at Jack and then looked away just as fast. "It wasn't a big deal … I didn't …"

"No." Jack's voice was almost stern. "You loved her." Mac shook his head almost imperceptibly. "You did. You loved her more than anything."

This time Mac took a haggard breath and Jack could see, despite his friend's best efforts to hide it, a tear slipped down his cheek. "I was stupid," he whispered.

"No," Jack repeated with even more conviction. "She was made for you. They had your file, Mac … Nikki was coached, trained, educated to be yours to love. That's cheating. You got cheated."

Mac nodded. "I feel cheated."

Jack put a hand on Mac's good shoulder. "But just because she was a cheat, that doesn't make the love you felt any less real. And I watched you two together for a couple of years. She had you, Mac … Body and soul." The nod had a little more conviction now. "But when you thought she was going to hurt other people, you were willing to make her call her own bluff … You were willing to risk your heart for other people. For me."

Mac leaned forward and Jack couldn't miss the tears that fell from Mac's eyes as the sunlight caught them for a moment. "Of course I was, Jack. You know I …" He paused for a second. He'd already given that much of himself, revealed that much that he kept behind the walls. So he went on. "I'd do anything for you. And I know you'd …" He couldn't go on, but he knew from the gentle pressure on his good shoulder that he didn't need to. How the hell did he ever get this lucky? How did either of them?

Jack wanted to let it go, because the kid was already in tears and Jack was damned close, but you never really knew when your number was up, so he decided to say it, regardless of how strange anyone on the outside might think it was. He knew Mac would understand. "I would," he stated plainly. "Mac, I think we're going to be doing something more dangerous than we've ever done when we go back to work. And I think you're going to get answers, whether you still want 'em or not."

"Me, too." Mac nodded.

"So, I need to say something, if it's okay?" Mac smiled at the question in Jack's tone, and just tipped his chin. "Your old man and I are about the same age." Mac nodded again. "And when you were born … Sarah and I were young … and we were good … You know?" Mac smiled when he nodded this time. "We even talked about what life would be like if we … and we both sort of wanted kids … but we never had the nerve … Either of us."

Mac knew what he was going to say and although it caused the hot tears he was trying to force to stay inside his head to spill more freely, nothing in him didn't want to hear Jack's words.

"I know I talk a lot about how things could've been different. Hell my own kids would be your age now if we'd followed through on any of the shit we used to talk about under fire when we were a couple of dumbass kids ... But, Mac, I don't regret any of it, not even one second of the might have been crap, because I got the greatest son, little brother, and best friend a tired old cowboy ever had, all wrapped up in one guy. No matter what happens, you've got old Jack Dalton. And I'm whoever you need me to be, kiddo."

Mac bit his lip. "I …" but he couldn't even complete a thought out loud.

"I hope I've earned what it took to tell those scary bastards in garbage bag suits to give the woman you once loved some unknown substance you thought might kill her on the off chance it might save my sorry ass. That's my goal anyway, Angus. To earn it."

Mac looked up at him. "Don't ever call me that again. Jackass."

They both laughed through a fair amount of tears, neither one feeling the need to hide them.

After a while, as they watched the sun begin to sink toward the water, Mac reached out and tapped Jack's arm. "Would you be okay to drive?"

"I've had like two beers all afternoon, Dude."

"Yeah, but did you mix it with pain pills?"

"I would never ..!"

"Jack, we've met, okay?"

Jack snorted with laughter. He knew Mac had only had one beer all day so he was asking because he was trying to be a good little soldier and follow the orders to avoid driving and wear his sling. "I'm totally sober, Mac. And it's actually been a couple days since I felt the need for more than a couple aspirin, truth be told. Why?"

"Did the tequila help?"

"Huh?"

"The time you said Sarah found you … Did the tequila help?"

Jack laughed, looking at Mac fondly and thinking how nice it was to have found a memory of Sarah that didn't cut. Actually when he thought about it, what he'd said to Mac was true; nothing about his past hurt any more when he saw it through the lens of where he was right now. "I guess it did, a little."

Mac looked at him, grinning. "I was gonna make homemade guac tomorrow so I've already got limes. Wanna go buy some?"

"I don't know, Mac …"

Really wanting to shut his brain off, he began, "There's a _Star Wars_ drinking game …"

"Oh yeah?" Jack asked, knowing full well that there was one, since he'd played it with his frat brothers back in his undergrad days, and, if very fuzzy memories served, with his Delta brothers once upon a time, too.

"Yeah," Mac nodded enthusiastically. "Like when bad guys wear white or good guys wear black, or someone insults the _Falcon_ , or …"

Jack got up. "You had me at ' _May the Force be with you_ ', kid."

Mac grinned, pushing himself to his feet, too, to go dig around in his blue-ray collection.

Jack strolled out of the house and as he climbed into his car he had to laugh at the thought that popped into his head. "I been from one side of this Galaxy to the other and I've seen a lotta strange stuff, but I've never seen anything to make be believe there's one all powerful Force controlling everything,"

… _Until I met that goddamned kid._

 _My best friend is …_

 _Blond hair, blue eyes, crazy mental powers. Holy shit I am Han Solo!_

Jack was still laughing to himself when he went into the liquor store.


	35. Chapter 35

The rain was falling in gusting sheets that if Jack were on Mac's back porch he would totally have appreciated after the extremely dry winter and spring they'd had. However, since he was driving he was less enthusiastic about the rain and had a fair amount of buyer's remorse about the decision to make this trip via Highway 99, rather than the much shorter hop (if over five hours could be called a hop) up I-5 so he could avoid all the truck traffic. Unfortunately the torrential rains and wind shear made the jet an unattractive option to get up to Sacramento, and since Matty had finally cleared up the red tape around Thornton last night, driving was their best bet since they wanted to be the ones to talk to her. Jack had been hoping the weather forecast would turn out to be wrong but they couldn't see much other than the taillights in front of them and the headlights coming their way at the moment. Jack occasionally made sure their backup was still following, but for whatever reason the crew gave them their space at stops. Maybe the rest of the team suspected they were mentally preparing for this mission.

Like they did on most long drives, the two men talked around this mission and what might be in front of them. They talked about all the usual things: sports, the weather, politics, their non-existent love lives. They bitched about having to take time off. Mac complained about the surgery he'd needed to fix things he'd knocked loose in his shoulder when he'd left the hospital so precipitously in DC to complete the mission. There was a fair amount of commiseration about rehabbing their injuries. They ate disgusting road food and enjoyed every bite. Jack told Mac about languorous drives up this way via the Pacific Coast Highway and promised it would be a road trip sometime soon, and they could drag Boze and Riley along for the incredible views and stops, too. When all that was really left to talk about was what they had just come through and where they might be headed, they slowly tapered off into more intermittent conversation interspersed with long silences or Jack singing along with his Johnny Cash CD.

As far as Mac was concerned there was nothing wrong with a little of the _Man in Black_. But they were cycling through their fourth trip through the _Solitary Man_ album since their two o'clock stretch break, and while Mac liked _I Won't Back Down_ as much as the next soldier (which, he had to admit, was quite a lot), he thought if he had to hear it again right now he might actually go crazy. He reached out to turn the CD player off to switch over to the Bluetooth the company SUV was fortunately equipped with and Jack not-quite-playfully swatted his hand away. "Hey there! Driver picks the music."

Mac grinned and turned the CD player off anyway and connected his phone to the Bluetooth and started pulling an album up on YouTube. "I'm getting sick of listening to the same stuff. And it's gonna put you to sleep at the wheel." Before Jack could complain, Mac found what he was looking for. "I remembered a band I know you're going to love. Seriously."

Jack raised a skeptical eyebrow but when the music started a slow smile spread over his face. "This is really good. When the hell did you develop taste in music?"

Mac grinned. "They're called Devil Makes Three. I remembered them the other night when you were whining about the California Punk kick Ri's been on, saying it was like babysitting her when she was in middle school." Mac's grin broadened a little. "These guys are a California band too and I loved them when _I_ was in middle school. Mostly because it seemed to piss my granddad off at a time I was inclined to do it." He chuckled. "He was kind of a classic rock sort of guy. Hated country. Hated punk. Really hated folk music because of Vietnam and whatever. These guys were all of it."

"Well, I respect a man's preferences, especially when they are inclined to honor the classics. But I don't trust any fool who hates country music. 'Sides, I think maybe he had a hearin' problem, 'cause these guys are awesome. What's this one called?"

" _Plank_ , but wait till you hear _Old Number Seven_." Mac chuckled at Jack's enthusiasm, pleased he'd found some music they could agree on and feeling pleasantly nostalgic about the amount of cussing under his breath about hillbilly music his Grandpa Harry had done when he used to blare this in his room. He caught Jack looking at him a couple of times over the next song. Finally it was starting to bug him a little bit. "What? Change your mind and want to go back to Cash?"

"Nope. You went for a run before I picked you up this morning."

"What? You picked me up at like six thirty for the briefing."

"Yup. And you are in way too good a mood for how long we been cooped up. You went for a run before that." Jack flashed him a semi-dark look as he took the appropriate exit.

Mac narrowed his eyes and wrinkled his nose in a sheepish expression. "A slight one?"

Jack shook his head. "I know I promised not to fuss this time, since Steve has been doing enough of that for five people … I swear that new baby has put the man's inner dad into over drive … But you aren't cleared for that yet, dude."

"Would it make you feel better if I told you I wore my sling to minimize moving my shoulder?"

"Probably."

Mac's grin bordered on smug. "Then that's exactly what happened. Just like you in no way kicked the tar out of that training dummy in your back room before you came and got me."

"How did you ..?"

"You don't realize you're doing it, but every once in a while you drive one-handed so you can press those ribs that are still sore. You're not a kid any more, Jack."

"Thanks for remindin' me." He paused and gave Mac a sheepish expression of his own. "I was antsy. Worried about how today will go, I guess. A little worried about how it'll be for you, too. I had to do somethin'."

Mac nodded sympathetically, hoping Jack would see it the same way he did. "Me, too."

Jack nodded, understanding they were coming from the same place, even if he didn't like that Mac pulled the same bonehead moves he did that could cause him additional pain or frustration. If he hadn't been such a hard headed dumbass when he was younger, he wouldn't have his wrist predicting the weather the way it did now. Speaking of which it ached like hell today. Maybe he'd let one of the other guys drive home. He wasn't letting Mac do it; he was too close to getting cleared to get back to regular work. And the kid had his sling on now, probably more because he didn't want Steve or Matty to yell at him this morning than the right reasons, but Jack had decided the little victories were what got you through.

Mac sighed. "I wonder what she'll say."

Jack slid the car into park and turned to give Mac a reassuring nod. "Let's go find out."


	36. Chapter 36

"It's the least I can do," Patricia Thornton said, tilting her head to the side like she didn't quite understand Mac's trepidation. "You and your team have apparently exonerated me. I'm particularly looking forward to seeing Miss Davis again and thanking her for reverse engineering that Trojan horse and proving the Organization set me up. Not that I ever doubted you would find the truth and act on it, Mac." She gave him a small smile, which on Thornton passed for fond. "And I've wanted to be part of bringing down the Organization since I was first recruited and learned of their existence. The fact that you're offering me a chance to do that is something I've let myself hope for on the nights that were particularly bleak here."

"We are truly sorry, Patty," Jack offered, looking and sounding as sorry as he claimed to be, his Texas accent thick, the way it often got in battlefield conditions or under extreme stress.

Mac agreed. "I'm sorry I thought you lied to us."

Thornton shook her head. "But I did, Mac. From the beginning. I lied frequently to protect you. At first because it's what I promised my mentor, my handler I would do. He recruited me while I was in college and he was the best … Then it became simply that you were one of my people, and the habit of wanting to let you be yourself, but have some control over keeping you safe was so ingrained I couldn't have stopped if I wanted to."

Mac couldn't quite meet her eye. It was an apology, a confession, but it revealed another betrayal, and much as it pained him to admit it, it cut deeply. "I don't need anyone to do that."

"Of course," she nodded, looking serious. "I'm sorry, too."

Mac nodded, and forced himself to look her in the eye for this. "Just so I'm sure we've been clear … If you're in, it's as an operative, probably more like a consultant … On my team. Director Webber has designated me as the Agent in charge. After this, it'll be up to you to decide if you want to keep playing this game and to negotiate in what capacity you might be allowed. Because you didn't commit a crime, but you were way off the books going after the Organization."

Jack almost grinned at the taken-aback expression on Patty's face. She'd missed out on the growth Mac had experienced in the last year, transitioning from a talented young agent with some unique approaches to a seasoned operative, capable of utilizing his already legendarily singular skills to accomplish the priority mission, whatever that might be. Starting to unpack some of his baggage had finally allowed him to truly begin to realize his potential. In short, she'd missed out on Mac truly becoming a man. Jack almost felt sorry for her. He wouldn't have missed it for anything. Then Jack caught on to the tension in her body language, something Patty was usually good at keeping to herself. He had a strong gut feeling, and he was inclined to follow it. "'Bout this mentor fella …" She raised her eyes to his and gave a nod. "He wouldn't have gone by the name Stace would he?"

Mac managed to hide his shock at the question, but when Patty answered, he couldn't keep his eyes from widening or his mouth from dropping open just a little. "That was one of the things he was called, yes."

0-0-0

Although Mac's impulse had been to dive in with the million questions that were suddenly crowding his mind, he had been the one to stop Jack and Thornton from continuing their conversation. "Guys … We should wait until we're back at Phoenix."

Jack's eyes widened just a little. "Don't you want ..?"

He gave them both a level stare. "No one wants to hear this more than I do. But do either one of you want to tell Matilda Webber than you discussed this outside of an official briefing before she's read in?" They didn't answer. It was a little difficult to keep his agent-in-charge-game face in place since he felt like his brain was a bowl of water and someone had just dropped cesium into it. He was also currently facing down his former boss, who he had always found slightly intimidating, and reminding her of procedure. But he swallowed and soldiered on. "Okay. Good. We were here to deliver the good news and provide an escort to Phoenix. It's better to draw the line there."

Jack sat just taking in details about Mac for a second or two, then he made a snap decision. "Listen, Mac, if you're good tying up the paperwork end of things, I'll take Patty to get her stuff."

Mac tipped him half a grateful smile. "Sounds good. And when I'm done, I'll go ask Steve if he'll drive us home so you can take a break."

Although that had been exactly what Jack had planned to do, he widened his eyes innocently at Mac. "What for? Was I finally giving you some premature greys out on the highway or somethin'?"

Mac shook his head. The affectionate frustration on his face caused Thornton's lips to quirk up at the corners in an expression neither of the men had seen much of, but she didn't say anything. Mac just glanced at Jack's wrist for a split second. Without fail, that kid could always tell when he was hurting. "You know what, Dalton, that's exactly why. I'll be as grey as you in no time flat if I keep letting you drive."

Seeming to come to some decision without saying anything, all three of them pushed back from the little table and rose all at once. Mac blinked as he remembered something and he picked up the small overnight bag from beside his chair and put it on the table close to Thornton. "Director Webber sent some of your things, so you could travel home in clean clothes … Your apartment is still apparently intact. The Director's been having it cleaned, having your plants watered … She just told us this morning and gave me your clothes." Mac paused. "She's very good. She didn't say why she'd done it, but I don't think she ever believed the evidence. Her gut instincts almost make believe such a thing exists … I don't think I'm done apologizing to you yet …" He looked a little lost for a second. "I don't actually know what to call you now …"

"Don't be silly. Please call me Patricia." She gave him another small smile.

"Okay." He looked around the small meeting room for a second and turned to go, stopping as he opened the door. "If you don't mind, Patricia, I think maybe you should ride home with Agent Milton on your own. I don't want us to be tempted to talk. This is the first operation I'll really be direction from inception to conclusion and … I struggle with protocol as it is."

"Steve? Agent Milton?" she asked, wondering if it was the Milton she knew.

"Yeah, Todd Milton. You know him. He's our tactical back up. You know Steve, too. Rodgers." Jack offered.

"You have people with you just to come up here to talk to me? Am I still under some suspicion?" She was frowning slightly, but didn't seem upset; she just wanted to know the score.

Mac shook his head, almost forgetting how alone they had been before. Even a tech analyst had been a concession from Patricia. She didn't trust most people to be on their team, it had seemed. "No, nothing like that. They're just part of the team now. Matty … Director Webber doesn't like anybody going out without support. And a gun to make up for the one I don't carry and a medic to … make up for everything else, along with Riley, were her bare minimum concessions."

Patricia chucked, a sound Mac had literally never heard. "Matilda Webber got you two to have a medic on your team? I cannot wait to get to know her."

"It ain't like that!" Jack insisted. "He was a SEAL, Patty. He can hold his own out there. And I didn't agree to it until I found out he came with a nod from McGarrett. Him bein' a Bandaid is totally secondary."

She chucked again. "Oh, yes. I'm sure it is." She gave an expressive, MacGyverish eye roll that made both men laugh too. She moved gracefully toward the door. "Your suggestion is very wise, Mac. I hope it won't sound condescending if I tell you I'm proud to see who you've become since I last saw you."

Mac blushed furiously and just mumbled, "Thank you, Patricia."

The parted ways in the hallway, heading in opposite directions. Jack thought he was out of earshot when he said, "So you got recruited by Mac's old man? You gotta start spillin' the beans, Patty. This is tearing the kid apart."

Mac shook his head as he walked toward the front office. Protocol be damned, Jack was not going to let even the tiniest detail slide here. Mac smiled to himself as he thought that even after everything he had been through, he felt a little sorry for his father. He'd wronged Jack's boy and Delta Dalton wasn't going to rest until he felt it had been made right.


	37. Chapter 37

Jack did an admirable job of not bringing up his talk with Patty on the long ride back. Mac kept glancing at him, but he didn't ask about it either, thinking that even if no one else ever knew they'd discussed it, he'd made a point of the principle of the thing and going back on it already was no way to step into his role as an agent in charge, which was a hell of a step up from just taking the lead on an op someone else designed and was calling the shots on (usually the DO). Besides, the fact that Steve was listening to his own music on his earbuds didn't mean the man wouldn't hear them talking behind him. Because he knew Jack would hate a fuss getting kicked up over an old injury, Mac had tried to assure the medic that their need for a driver was simply because they might want to discuss their short interview with Patty, but he knew something was up. Mac was also feeling like even thinking about what Jack and Patty might have talked about would trigger Steve's weird almost psychic-seeming ability to detect when his teammates were up to something.

When they'd been chatting in the lobby, having a coffee and waiting for Jack and Patty to return with her belongings, Steve had given Mac a sort of squinting appraisal and said, "You went for a run this morning." Mac had nearly spit out his coffee before skirting around a denial, being given a dad stare that was almost as good as Jack's, and then doubling back and admitting to a _slight_ run. Instead of a lecture, which was what Mac knew he probably deserved, Steve just grinned and told him that if he came in before work in the morning, he would see if they could get him cleared for ditching the sling and upping his activity, maybe starting some physical therapy, before Matty caught wind of him playing fast and loose with orders. Mac was somewhat relieved, both at the prospect of getting back to normal and having a distraction from what he was feeling, about Nikki, Patricia, Murdoc … about his father.

When they returned to Phoenix and started talking it became clear that teasing out what Patricia knew about the Organization, the players involved, how they had been able to target her, and why they might be so interested in Mac was going to take weeks. Matty wanted the details most relevant to the current actions by the Organization first, meaning what led to them framing Thornton and engaging in their most recent wave of activity. Mac's curiosity about this father and the nature of his relationship with Thornton was driven into the background when Riley finally cracked the last layer of encryption on Nikki's phone and computer and the team was pulled down the rabbit hole of the mission to target _Bethlehem_ and a fifty state strategy to spread an infectious disease. The discovery of several active cells working in different areas attempting to accomplish similar objectives quickly derailed any plans Mac had to get to the bottom of his father's confusing role in this. Despite him not being medically cleared for field work, Matty was firm in her support of Mac's status as the agent in charge and he put in long hours at the office and in the War Room overseeing what needed to be done to shut down current threats. Jack was an able and dedicated second in command, acting as the liaison with the tactical units and keeping Mac fed and full of coffee.

Matty was more than a little impressed with the work the team was doing and was glad she'd gone against what would have been typical protocol and instead of excluding Mac because it might intersect with his personal life, giving him control of the mission. She passed by his office on her way to meet with an outside contractor one evening after nearly everyone else had cleared out for the night due to her admonishment that since everyone was in from related field ops for the moment they should all head out early and take a slightly extended weekend. Of course, counter to her strongly worded suggestion, that for a minute she considered reframing as an order, she saw Mac sitting at his desk, staring intently his laptop screen and absently massaging his shoulder. At least that indicated that he'd taken a break to go to mandatory physical therapy at some point today. Instead of immediately chasing him out, she checked her watch and realized she had a few minutes before her 7 pm appointment would arrive, so she just tapped on the door frame. Mac glanced up, and she was almost gratified to see a sheepish expression flit across his face; she could see him mentally testing scenarios that his boss might find acceptable as reasons he was still here.

Before he could fumble an excuse she just walked in, sat down across from him, and said, "Hey, Mac. Did you at least stop for dinner?"

"Hey, Matty. Yeah. Um, Jack brought me … something."

For the life of him he couldn't remember what he'd eaten, but he was fairly certain that he'd finished whatever it was. It must have come with a large coffee, because the cup was still sitting, half-finished, next to his computer and although it was cold, he took a drink of it anyway. He couldn't walk away from this file just yet. And it would be dangerous to take information like this out of the office.

She tipped him a kind, if reserved smile. "Well, good. I was ready to yell at him. The fact that you're still here made me think he was derelict in his duties of looking after you." She paused and her voice took on a more teasing note. "I almost feel sorry for him right now with you out of the field. Keeping you from getting riddled with holes by other people who want to kill you seems like it might be easier than getting you to take care of yourself right now, Mac."

His mouth curved into a smile. "You're probably right. I really did mean to go home … But, Riley just sent me the last of the files off Nikki's computer and I've just started going through the stuff you collated from your interviews with Patricia … It's a lot of material and I …"

"You need to get started on this. I understand. It's why I'm teasing instead of yelling at you." She looked around Mac's office, frowning. "Where is Dalton anyway?"

Mac's face broke into a grin. "Patricia and Bozer are thick as thieves since she's been back. That's a dynamic I could live to be a hundred and never figure out, but they adore each other. Actually, Patricia reminds me of Bozer's mom a little. She's a surgeon and she can be so tightly controlled about work and then two seconds later laugh herself to tears about a cat video. Patricia's like that I think, now that I'm getting to know her as an equal."

Matty smiled and nodded. She'd been concerned that Mac would have a hard time treating Thornton as anything other than his boss, but in classic MacGyver style, the compartmentalization seemed to come naturally to him. "And?"

"Bozer threw down with Jack about active gaming and Patricia piled on … Of course, Riley had to get into the mix … anyway, they're all at some place over in West Hollywood called the GlowZone drinking too much beer and trying to take each other out with light amplified by stimulated emission of radiation," Mac chuckled.

Matty shook her head. "So you got abandoned for Laser tag?"

"Yeah," he grinned. Then his face fell a bit. "I've looked at the stuff on Nikki's computer from Riley, and what you forwarded on Patricia's explanation of Stace Smithee and when he went dark …"

"She wanted to talk to you in person but I thought you'd take it better in a report."

Mac nodded. "Thanks. In person is definitely not my strength." His face scrunched up for a second, then relaxed. "I spent so much time thinking he left because of Mom's death … because of me … I'm not going to pretend that I'm not still here because I'm having a hard time learning that might not have been what happened. This report seems like he got word of a burn notice, and that's why he bailed and didn't come back …" Mac squeezed his eyes shut, trying to shut off the heat behind them, to still the fluttering in his chest.

Matty looked at him for a long moment, just feeling the pain she could see on his face. Recently Jack had mentioned his personal urge to skin his knuckles on the senior MacGyver's teeth on behalf of the man that was Jack's priority mission and right now she understood that completely. She thought carefully about what to say before she spoke.

"Mac," she finally prodded gently, but he didn't open his eyes. She decided to continue anyway. "None of this is simple … but I hope you'll consider something as you sort through all this conflict in your head." This time he opened his eyes and looked at her and the Herculean effort she witnessed that kept the burning tears standing in his eyes from falling made her heart clench for just a second. "Your father may have had reasons he thought he was doing the right thing."

Mac's fervent nod almost broke her heart. He knew what being disavowed was like and she might never forgive herself for that, even though she'd done what she could to help without going down with that ship. He closed his eyes again.

"MacGyver! Look at me."

When his eyes opened, the tears he'd been fighting so valiantly to hold onto trailed down his cheeks. She pressed her lips together to hold in her own emotions when she watched him stoically not acknowledge them.

"Mac … nothing excuses how he left, or that he didn't at least offer you some solace afterward. Nothing excuses his coldness toward you. Even if he thinks he's still protecting you." She tilted her head to hold his gaze, even as he tried to look away. "You are one of the best field agents I have ever known. And you are still younger than most people who are ever allowed into the field. I stand by my decision to put you in a command position. I'm impressed, and frankly that says something since I've worked under multiple presidents from both parties and none of them has gotten that out of me yet."

Mac couldn't help his watery smile. "Thanks."

Matty got up and walked around his desk so she could put a hand on his arm. "You deserve the truth. Not just because you've always deserved it, but because withholding it from you puts you at continued risk." He frowned. "The Organization is targeting you, not just because you are in your own right a talented agent who could bring them down (and you could Mac, I believe that with all of my heart and, more importantly with all of my mind) but because you are his son. Until he tells you everything, he is putting you in the line of fire, and I won't have that … As soon as you're cleared by Medical for field work, you have my full authorization to find your father and bring him in so we can bring _THEM_ down."

Now Mac brushed absently at his face, to wick away the moisture there. He nodded his understanding. "I'm going in to Medical first thing Monday. Steve thinks I'll be cleared, although I have to go through Foster since Rodgers is on the team."

Matty smiled at the sureness in his voice.

"I'm going to get cleared, Matty. I'm going to do whatever it takes to end this … I just want to move on …"

Matty started out the door toward her late appointment. "Mac, I know you may not always have felt this … But I believe you will … I believe in … You."

He smiled at her and looked away, feeling his cheeks warm. Her voice took on the expected harder edge. But he could easily hear the affection in it now.

"Now, wrap up what you absolutely have to and then go home. Because you know I'm going to tell Medical to put you through the wringer before they sign off on you heading back out."

Mac shook his head. "Yes, ma'am."

She left and Mac sat for a little while longer, staring at the file. His eyes kept straying to the date of the burn notice. And while he'd meant to follow Matty's orders, he was soon caught up in his all too perfect memory of his twelfth birthday.


	38. Chapter 38

His grandfather stepped out onto the back porch at just the wrong moment and caught him sneaking in through the back gate again. He'd gone out after school to feed the stray dog he'd found roaming around the woods behind the house again and he didn't want Gramps to know it. Gramps was not really a dog person, or much of an animal person at all, although he did still care lovingly for his wife's cat Stella, even though the cat was only four and had been a kitten when she'd been killed in a car accident. Although Mac did hear him frequently mumble to himself as he fed the little orange tabby, "You couldn't have just had a garden, Cece? No, _you_ had to have a cat. Damned thing'll probably outlive me."

Mac plastered on a big grin and called out, "Hey Gramps, have you seen Stella? I think she might have gotten out. I was just looking for her."

Harry chuckled to himself. He knew about the dog of course, but he hadn't decided whether or not he should say anything just yet. Jimmy was gone all the time for work and Gus just missed his mom so much … Harry took a deep breath. He missed her, too. His little girl. If her boy didn't resemble her so strongly, didn't have a heart so much like hers, he thought he couldn't have stood her loss. Then when his wife passed, too … Well, he admitted to himself, if it wasn't for Gus, he probably would have just called the whole thing off. Any number of his buddies from Vietnam had done so, even though none of them were old men either, by any stretch of the imagination. But this little towheaded fellow with the brilliant mind, and probably more courage than good sense, was reason to go on when no other rationale seemed adequate.

"She's in the kitchen. I just fed her, Gus."

He was nursing pretty sore ribs from his latest run in with Donny Sandos that he should probably tell Gramps about, but he wasn't going to. He knew it wasn't just his name … but it added fuel to the fire for sure. "Gramps, you know I hate that. Just please start calling me Mac like I asked." He knew that sounded kind of whiny, but he couldn't help it. "The guys at school are shitheads about my name!"

Harry was mock-offended. "Language!"

Never wanting to disappoint, the skinny little fellow actually hung his head, wringing Harry's heart in that simple movement. "Sorry, sir."

Harry jogged down off the porch and pulled the boy into a brief hug. He couldn't fail to notice that Mac very nearly pulled away. _Hmm_. "No, bud, I'm sorry. Middle school kids can be mean as hell. Shitheads." Mac glanced at him with a small smile. "It's your name and if you want to be Mac then that's what I'll call you. Hell, I'm so used to being called Harry I hardly ever answer to my real name anymore. If I slip up, you holler at me. Okay, Mac?"

Mac grinned up at him. "Yes, sir!" He stepped back and thought for a minute. "Hey, can Boze come over for the party?"

"Boze?" Harry asked, an eyebrow climbing.

"Yeah!" Mac nodded enthusiastically. "You know … Wilt, I mean …" Harry's mouth quirked up on one side. "Gramps! You know Boze!"

"Since when did young Wilt start going by Boze?"

Mac shrugged, hiding the wince he felt his face wanting to crease with at the pain from the beating he'd been given at the hands of Donny and his junior football league buddies. "I guess right around the same time I started going by Mac."

Harry smiled. "Sure. Does he know there's going to be cake from Lionel's Bakery?"

Mac gave him a toothy grin in return. "I might have mentioned it. I kind of owe him something nice."

Harry's brow furrowed. "Owe him? What for?"

Mac looked worried for a second, then his face went innocently smooth with an ease that made Harry worry vaguely, although he couldn't have said why. It made him think of Jimmy and the unease he felt whenever the man talked about his work. Cece had always said old soldiers must be paranoid. Of course she didn't know quite as much about her son-in-law as she had fancied she did. Not that he really knew either, but he suspected a great deal.

"Nothing big, Gramps. He's just really great at art and he helped me with one of those spatter painting projects. I suck at that stuff." That wasn't a _total_ lie. Boze had splatter painted the heck out of the wall when he punched Donny in the nose.

Harry noticed the boy's eyes cut away from his face but he decided not to mention it anymore than he'd mentioned that scruffy dog. "Sure, bud. Run on down and invite him over." Mac had taken off at the word 'sure' but Harry's voice caught him right after he cut out of the yard by vaulting over the fence. "Maybe run on over and remind your Dad that we're celebrating tonight. He's probably jet lagged and he might have forgotten!"

Mac threw him a dazzling carefree grin as he turned and pelted down the sidewalk. Harry shook his head. He didn't get to see that grin very often. Jimmy seemed to want to do right by the kid, but there was a funny distance between them. Little fella hadn't really been the same since Ellie got sick, but then after what Jim had done trying to save her, Harry supposed that might be reason enough for the boy to resent his father a bit. And after going through all that, his mom had still died. Harry didn't think he'd run into anyone braver than that kid, even in the middle of a damned war and he'd known some honest to goodness heroes in his day. Of course that had come at the price of more than just a little coolness between his grandson and son-in-law. Since Gus … _Mac_ … had been staying with him more and more, and almost exclusively since Cece died, Harry noticed the kid would avoid going near a doctor's office with almost religious dedication. He could hardly blame the boy after his experience, but he was hurt. Again. And he'd lied about it; or at least he was hiding it, which amounted to the same thing. Harry had noticed him guarding his side when they'd hugged. He wondered if Mac even knew why he did that. Harry had made mention of what he'd done for his mother one day and the boy had simply looked at him like he had two heads, or more specifically like he had no idea what his grandfather was talking about. Harry contemplated going inside and calling the Bozers' to see if Tamara could ' _accidently_ ' notice that he was injured and offer to help. He wouldn't run off on her. Then Harry decided to let it lie. The way the kid had raced down the sidewalk, he clearly wasn't too badly off, and if he was wrong and Gus … _Mac_ … was hurt worse than he'd thought, he'd deal with it after the weekend. At least that wouldn't start a fight with him tonight and ruin his birthday. His last one before he was a teenager. That was, in Mac's words, kind of huge. He went inside to white out the totally incorrect name that he'd written on Mac's birthday card.

0-0-0

"Dad?"

Mac stuffed his key back in his pocket as he leaned in the door. He could hear movement down the hall, so he knew his dad was awake and not sleeping off his jetlag. He closed the door behind himself and locked it. Gramps never locked the door until he was ready to go up to bed, and even then he didn't get all freaky about it, but Mac's dad had drummed locking up into his brain since he was too young to remember.

"Dad?!" he called out again, louder.

He didn't want to startle his father, something that almost always resulted in what passed for getting yelled at by his dad. He wasn't a shouter, but he could be so serious, so stern when Mac had done something that was against the rules, like walking into his father's office unannounced, Mac always felt awful for days afterward. Still no answer; so he shrugged and hurried down the hall, calling out again a couple of times. The door of his dad's bedroom was cracked and Mac could hear muffled movements of someone moving purposefully around the room. For a half a second something about opening that door felt dangerous, but he wouldn't even officially be twelve until tomorrow, so there wasn't much in his brain that told him backing off at that blip on his mental radar might be the better move, so he called out again as he pushed the door open. Mac found his father haphazardly cramming things into a large suitcase, his dark hair disheveled, looking sort of sweaty and definitely upset, Mac thought. The man paused for a moment, looking at a picture of himself, a much younger Mac, and his wife that was on the nightstand next to his bed. After a long silent second, he put that into his suitcase, too, and zipped it up.

Mac tried again. "Dad? What're you doing?"

In a movement so smooth and quick Mac didn't even really see it happen, the man spun, eyes slightly wild, with a gun drawn from somewhere in his clothes that Mac couldn't have identified to save his own life. Acting on an instinct so perfect that it must be born rather than taught, Mac dropped to the floor with a sharp shout, "Dad! No!"

Immediately tossing the weapon on the bed, the man was on the floor, his hands on his son's shoulders. "Angus! I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Are you okay?"

Mac groaned as he pushed himself up to a sitting position, staring at his father with wide, frightened eyes. "I … I'm fine," he lied, unconvincingly. Before his father could say anything else, anger replaced fear and he snapped, "What's going on? You promised you'd get rid of that thing," he glanced at the bed.

"I'm sorry," his dad said again. It sounded like he meant for more than what just happened, but Mac didn't care, just got painfully to his feet. His dad got up to and reached out to put a hand on his shoulder, but Mac pulled away, glaring.

"Why are you packing? You're leaving again, aren't you?" It sounded more like an accusation than a question.

James almost wanted to look away from that penetrating stare, but he forced himself to meet his son's eyes. "I … I'm sorry," he said again. He knew he was repeating it a lot, but everything else seemed inadequate. Mac's stare got a little angrier. "I have to go … There's a problem and I can't fix it right now so …" He trailed off.

Mac nodded, his lips pressing together. "So you're running away from it. Just like when Mom …" Mac made himself shut up. That was too hurtful; he wasn't going to say it. His father knew what he'd done.

Now, despite his best intentions, there was a little flash of anger in James's eyes too. "Sometimes when a thing breaks it can't be fixed, Angus. You've broken enough stuff, you should know it."

He regretted the words as soon as he'd said them, but he thought if he said he was sorry one more time, his little boy might actually really lose his temper. Mac was furious anyway, his face red, his chest heaving, tears standing in his eyes making them look even bigger and bluer than they were. "But I always try to fix it! I always try!" Mac almost felt bad when his dad flinched at his words. Almost. " _You_ always leave!"

Mac spun on his heel and moved to leave himself. His dad reached out to stop him and when Mac pulled away he over balanced and bumped into the door frame, connecting solidly, right where Donny's friend Mike had slammed him with his full book bag. The metal thermos he carried in the pouch on the side had been full, too. Mac pressed his hand to his side and squeezed his eyes shut, because suddenly they were so watery he knew he was going to cry. He refused to do that in front of his father right now. He wouldn't show weakness in front of someone so weak he couldn't even stay around for his wife in the end, had left his kid to face it alone. Had to leave for work? And now he's just leaving again. _On my birthday_ , Mac thought furiously. Seeing that getting any closer wasn't going to help the situation, James took a step back toward the bed to pick up his things. "Are you alright, Angus?"

He wasn't, but he also felt like it was just a question adults asked because they were supposed to, not because he cared. If he cared, his father wouldn't be leaving. Again. "Don't call me that! I hate it!"

James nodded, and this time he had to apologize again. "I'm sorry, kiddo. I guess I shouldn't be one to give you a hard time about not using your real name. What do you want me to call you? Gus like your Gramps does?"

Mac just shook his head, didn't answer. Now he couldn't look at his dad or he really was just going to start bawling like a little kid. And he wasn't a kid anymore! And he was never going to just run away like this. Not ever. "I don't even care," he finally sighed.

James shook his head. He would rather have avoided this confrontation, would rather not have this be a memory for either of them, but here he was. He picked his gun up off the bed and slipped it into the holster hidden in his jacket, then picked up his suitcase. He stepped toward his son. "I'm not running away. I promise. I'm honestly trying to fix things. For you. For us, kiddo."

"Yeah. Sure." Mac was rarely sarcastic, but when he was, it was cutting.

James took a deep breath. He knew that based on everything Mac knew, had been through, that lack of faith, that anger, was fair. "I'll come back as soon as I can."

Mac shook his head and turned to leave. "Don't bother," he mumbled.

James called after him, "Angus, I l…" But he didn't get to finish.

Mac snapped, "No you don't."

He broke into a run. When he encountered the locked door and had to stop for a second to open it, he heard his dad coming down the hall and started crying. He couldn't keep it in anymore. When the door swung free he dashed out of the house before his father could say anything else. He planned to run to the woods behind his grandfather's house. He'd been taking off for those woods every time something bothered him since he was tall enough to undo the front gate here. His plans to keep running were foiled by sore ribs and sobs that were ripping through him, stealing his breath. He had to stop, leaning over, resting his hands on his thighs, trying desperately to catch his breath. He heard the door to his house open and in a moment of panic that he'd have to face more conversation with his father, he dove into the bushes in front of Mrs. Carmichael's house and hid. A car pulled up in front of his house. The driver was a young dark haired woman with huge dark sunglasses. James opened the back door and threw his suitcase roughly onto the seat. He climbed in on the passenger side and she pulled away from the curb. They drove right by him. Through his tears Mac saw them pass by, saw his father with his face in his hands. _Good_ , Mac thought savagely, as he crawled out of the bushes and started to make his painful way back to Gramps' house. _He should cry. He's the one who's always breaking things, who's always running away._

Harry had seen him coming up the sidewalk, could see that the boy had been crying, but he knew better than to approach Mac when he was really upset. The boy would just take off, or shut down. So he let him slip into the house and quietly climb the stairs to his room. When he called Mac down for dinner the boy's muffled reply that he wasn't hungry came floating down through the floor vent. Was he going to want cake with his friends tonight? Mac just didn't answer that time. He knew something had happened between Jimmy and Mac, but he couldn't imagine what. It looked similar to Mac's reaction last year when his father had disappeared at Christmas, the difference being the conflict hadn't actually played out in person; just Mac taking the phone call, then disappearing to be alone in his room upstairs here, pretending he was talking apart a broken computer instead of crying quietly for hours. Harry called the parents of Mac's few friends and told them Mac wasn't feeling well. He said that maybe they could have his cake over the weekend when he was feeling better; and tomorrow was technically his birthday anyway. Wilt had told his mom about yet another fight at school today. Wilt hadn't gotten in trouble, but he'd skinned up his knuckles pretty badly, his mother told Harry. Wilt was worried about Mac, had told her he'd gotten knocked around pretty badly. "Well, then, that explains it," Harry said. "You tell Wilt we both thank him for being such a good friend. And tell him not to worry. I'll look out for our boy."

When Harry went to check on Mac later, he found the boy apparently asleep, under a mountain of blankets, all pulled up over his head. _Best to let sleeping Mac's lie. Tonight at least_ , he thought. Harry was watching _The Late Show_ when the phone rang. It was his son-in-law. They spoke for a few moments and Harry heard something, but he could never say whether or not it was the upstairs extension being lifted. Or if he could, he never said anything about it.

"… there's the money I mentioned … You know how to access it for him?"

"I do."

"Um … his birthday present's in the garage … You still have the spare key."

"Yes."

"I'll try to come back as soon as I can. Harry, I'm sorry to leave you with all of this, but I …"

"You took the job knowing what could happen!" Finally there was a little heat in Harry's voice. "And when Ellie died you promised you'd get out, you promised Mac wouldn't grow up without both his parents, Jim."

"Mac?"

"You know he hates being called Angus. Since you're leaving he's got to be his own man now, and if he wants to be called Mac, then he damned well deserves to be."

"I'm sorry, Harry. For everything." The man was close to tears. Anyone could hear it.

"You know what's better than being sorry, Jimmy? Doing the right thing to begin with."

There was a long pause on the line and a muffled sniff that both men assumed belonged to the other. James spoke again. "Just please, when he's ready, tell him I _do_ love him, and that I'll see him when I can."

"I will. When he's ready." Now Harry paused, deciding if he should say it. "Just don't leave him, Jimmy. Stay and we can figure out how to fix this. I know people in the Department …"

"I have to go, Harry. Running is my option at the moment."

"Good luck, Jimmy. I mean it." Both men hung up.

After a minute or two, Harry heard the floor board in the hall creak. It was the one by the stand at the end where the upstairs phone sat. He shook his head. He heard another creak as Mac climbed back into his bed. He wasn't sure he knew exactly how to take care of Mac all on his own. He wasn't an old man, but he wasn't a young one either. And he wasn't exactly stupid, but even the very bright tended to look a little dim compared to Mac. And the boy had no sense of self-preservation whatsoever, was almost crazily adventurous. Harry was almost glad the kid was afraid of heights because he couldn't imagine the number of broken bones the boy could manage if he wasn't. Three ER visits in the last year without ever leaving the ground. Good lord. But he'd have to do his best. He wouldn't cut out on the boy. He'd have to be dying or dead to leave him.

Alone in his room Mac was having similar thoughts. What would he do without any parents at all? What was his life going to be like now that he didn't even have brief visits from his father to look forward to. He glanced over at the digital clock on his nightstand. Well, he was twelve now. He wasn't going to celebrate this as his birthday any more though. Today would be the day he'd remember who he wanted to be, who he had to be. It wasn't a celebration. It was a commitment. Mac was never going to be the guy who took the easy way out, who didn't fix what he'd broken. Who just ran away and left.

 _I will never leave anyone who needs me_. His breath hitched a little, but he didn't start crying again, just climbed back in bed and closed his eyes to the world. _I promise_ , he thought. He didn't know who he was promising, maybe just himself, but he repeated it, just for good measure.

Then he pulled the covers over his head again and cried until he fell asleep.


	39. Chapter 39

Jack let himself in to Mac's house, unsurprised to find it dark. He could see Mac sitting on the deck, the only illumination the bluish light of the tablet he was using and that from the city below. He was sure Mac knew he was there already since he would have heard the beeps of the security system disengaging, and probably checked the camera on the door from the app on his phone, but just in case, Jack made a fair amount of noise as he moved to the sliding doors; he flicked on the kitchen light, stopped at the fridge for a couple of sodas, and then killed the light again before he headed outside. He'd learned early on in their relationship that Mac could go from lost in space to reflexively punching you in the nose in no-point-no seconds if you snuck up on him. And Jack's training ran so deep, was so a part of everything about him, that unless he forced himself to make noise like a normal person, he tended to be so silent that others found it eerie. Mac was still reading intently so Jack purposely tripped on the little area rug near the door and swore with the expected military color before he went out to sit down next to Mac.

Mac glanced over at him, appreciating the theater of Jack bumbling through the apartment. He took the proffered ginger ale and cracked it open, taking a sip before setting it next to his chair. He glanced at his watch. "Kinda early. Everybody back already?"

Jack shook his head, looking out over the city rather than at Mac. "Nah. They're still going strong. They were tearing it up down at the _Brass Monkey_ when I left 'em a while ago."

Mac raised an eyebrow. "You cut out on karaoke? You coming down with something, big guy?"

Jack grinned. "You know I don't like the _Monkey_. Reminds me too much of _Caritas_ from _Angel_. I keep expecting the magic to go bad and some demon to show up and start shit."

Mac chuckled. "I will never understand your obsession with those shows. Not even a little."

"Aw, c'mon Mac. Whedon is the man! Even you like his MCU stuff."

"Kind of, I guess. But he kills characters off just for … He likes his audiences to cry. Half the time it doesn't even move the plot!"

"You sound like you're taking this a little personally, Mac." Jack smiled. He'd heard this geeky diatribe before. Of course, he loved it when Mac got serious about something imaginary; he thought it was good for him to forget the real stuff every once in a while. "I don't think he does that just for a reaction. Man's got good plot coming out his ears."

"Snappy dialogue isn't the same as a good plot. Besides … Winifred Birkel, Jack." Jack just smirked. "Joyce, Tara, Wesley … Book, okay maybe I could see Book dying just because of the story, but … _Wash_? Leaf on the wind, my ass." Jack almost cracked up. Mac pretended not to watch all this stuff when Jack and Bozer had a good binge, but obviously he paid attention. Jack just gave the expected nod. Mac's eyebrows went up, knowing his final point paid for all. "Quicksilver. He murders characters for feels; and ink is his poison."

Jack chuckled. "Yeah, Wash still kinda hurts. Got a soft spot for a fellow stick jockey, I'm not gonna lie."

"He just better keep his blood-dripping pen off _Hulk_ or I'm out."

Jack laughed heartily. "I'm with you on that one, man." Finally Jack opened his own soda and just casually glanced at Mac, who had yet to put down his tablet. It hadn't been quite as difficult to draw Mac out lately, but Jack was still always careful. The kid had been a little more reluctant to go to therapy since the end of the _Bethlehem_ op, knowing that Sissy's security had been breached. Riley had fixed the holes in her system, but Mac wasn't someone who let go of things like that easily. "Hope we're gonna be busy at the office this week. Bozer's gonna be insufferable. He was the last man standing at the GlowZone."

Mac laughed, finally putting aside the tablet. "Boze got the drop on _Patricia_?"

"Oh so _that_ surprises you? But not that he got the drop on me. Excuse me while I go lick my wounds, which now include my pride." Jack pretended to start to rise.

"Don't take it personally, man. Boze has stealth down to a science. I think that's half the reason he's so loud and extroverted when he's relaxed. It's camouflage for when he needs to be sneaky." Mac chuckled, then shook his head. "I've seriously almost really hurt him a couple of times when he's woken me up or tried to surprise me. Fortunately, I think he finally understands why that's such a bad idea."

"Yeah, I'm sure the last year or so has increased Bozer's understanding of a lot of things."

"So what brought you back early and, I might add, totally sober?"

Jack looked almost sheepish. "Spidey senses were tingling."

"You always know." Mac half smiled. "Whether you meant it or not, things are probably going to be busy again at the office come Monday," Mac said more quietly, taking the conversation down the serious path they both knew it needed to take. "Well, busy because we'll be leaving the office."

Right down to the brass tacks. This whole in command thing was very interesting to see on MacGyver, Jack thought. "Oh yeah? You want to read me in now … or would it be better to wait for the rest of the team?"

Mac got up and stretched. "Want a beer?"

 _Uh oh. He was stalling. This had to be big._ "Sure, bud."

Jack followed him inside and sat down at the counter. Mac turned on the lights and they both blinked rapidly and laughed a little at how owlish the other looked. Mac grabbed them a couple of beers and then sat down next to Jack, his tablet on the counter between them. He took a sip before he spoke. "I was sort of hoping you'd be over tonight. I wanted a chance to talk to you alone, off the books."

"Okay …" Jack paused. "How off the books are we talkin', Mac?"

Mac gave the self-deprecating grin Jack was used to seeing when Mac was unsure of his ideas. "Matty knows. But … just Matty at the moment. I need to read the rest of the team in if we go with my plan … but I want to run it by you first. Matty kind of hates it, but she can't see a better way. If you don't like it, we'll revisit things."

Jack gestured toward him with the neck of his beer bottle before taking a drink. "You're the agent in charge, dude."

Mac shook his head. "I'm sort of not starting Monday." Before Jack could interrupt, defending Mac's performance, Mac went on. "I mean I am, but this is … It's going to be complicated."

"Sort of? Are you or aren't you?"

"Monday morning I'm going to show up at Medical and come off as still being a lot worse off than I am because the rules say I can't just go through Steve because he's part of our ops team. Otherwise this would just be paperwork …"

"How is the old shoulder, by the way?" Jack asked casually.

Mac shook his head. It had been a while since the Papa Jack tone had snuck into Jack's speech. "Fine. I mean … Steve says I've screwed it up enough times now that in a few years I'll know every time it's gonna rain, but if I was actually going in Monday with a hope of being cleared there'd be nothing to stop me."

"Good." Jack nodded, satisfied. "So why are you faking still being hurt?"

"Because I need a reason for Matty to officially take me out of the field and put me on leave." Jack's eyebrows went up, but he stayed silent. "We got the Organization's hit list of Nikki's computer. Patricia looked at it and found a number of known aliases that my father used, all on it, assigned to different assassins as though they were actually different people. All of those names have recent movement associated with them, except James MacGyver, who has apparently ceased to exist."

Mac's voice was as clinical as it ever was when he was talking about a mission. There was no hint of personal feelings entering into this; that worried Jack more than an average amount. "Everything we found when we went lookin' before says he's still alive, kid."

Mac's brow creased for a moment. "Yeah … I'm actually certain of that … That's why I've set this up." Jack nodded for him to go on. "Anyway, I'm going to make a stink about going on leave because I want to follow those aliases myself and Matty's going take over the mission command and assign me a security detail to keep me out of that investigation and safe from the Organization since I supposedly am not at a hundred percent physically."

"I'm guessin' I'm that lucky bodyguard?"

"Yeah, don't take that too literally, because it's not going to be your real job. You can keep the Papa Jack routine roped right in." Mac gave him a glare that looked mostly joking, but there was the wariness that always came with any perceived vulnerability. "Matty is going to assign Todd as the lead, Steve as his second, and Riley as their analyst because those identities are crawling with tech, and they've done nothing that would indicate they shouldn't be active status so it would be really weird if the whole team suddenly disappeared."

"If we're up to somethin' won't we need Riley?" Jack was starting to worry about just exactly what Mac had planned if they were going in without Riley.

"No. But we may need Bozer."

Jack gave Mac an elaborate frown. "Don't tell me we're bringing that damned robot!"

Mac actually laughed. "Kind of the total opposite. Our op is going to be very tech minimal. So minimal that I can handle anything we need."

"So what do we need Bozer for?"

"We may need his special effects and make-up skills. Since this has to be low tech, it may come in handy."

"Low tech, no tac back-up, no medic. You're making me real nervous right now, bud. What's this about for real?"

"I've told you how my dad was always pretty anti-tech." Jack nodded. "All these aliases are so tech heavy it's like they want to be on the grid. So I think they're decoys. Matty agrees."

"Makes sense," Jack nodded. "But what's that mean for us if Milton is going after those decoys."

Mac grinned in spite of himself. "We're going after the big fish." One corner of Jack's lips lifted and he tipped his chin to encourage Mac to go on. "See, according to Patricia, when my father went dark it was because he may have stumbled onto who was actually behind the Organization and what their objective is, but he couldn't prove it. So really, he's the key to unraveling all of this, or at least starting to. And I think he's gone the low tech route to be difficult to trace."

"Okay, but why does it have to be you to go after him? The Organization is already targeting you."

Mac nodded. "Matty thinks they're after me partly because I'm a thorn in their side, but mostly to flush him out." Then he shook his head. "I don't know that I'd be important enough to him for that to be a very effective strategy, but …"

Jack interrupted. "Hey, now. You're important, alright?" Mac sighed, showing the strain this had him under for the first time in a long while. "It sounds to me like he left to protect you all those years ago, bud. And, don't get me wrong I still wanna beat the hell out of him for that – among other things – but him making shit decisions doesn't mean he didn't care about you or that you need to keep questioning your worth because he was an asshole. Okay?" Mac didn't say anything, was sort of deliberately looking away so Jack spoke louder, "I said, okay?"

Mac glanced at him and gave him a small smile around another sip of his beer. "Okay. Jesus, Jack." Mac pulled the tablet toward himself and started doing something on it as he spoke. "It's gotta be me because most modern operatives are just as tech dependent as those false identities. You know how it is … it's one of the reasons we usually need Riley so badly." Jack nodded, and mac could tell the wheels were really starting to turn. "But me? If tech fails that's not as big a deal because I just figure something else out."

"Having a team with 'Improvise' as its motto does make you pretty unique in the biz."

Mac nodded. "And I might be wrong, but I think I have a place for us to start looking now."

"That Stace alias?" Jack asked.

Mac shook his head. "I don't know what made me think of it, but I just started running some familiar names through the system, you know … just following a hunch."

"I thought hunches weren't scientifically viable or some crap like that."

"Yeah, well, maybe you're finally rubbing off on me, Dalton." Jack just grinned. "I found a bunch of property, all over, under the name Henry Arthur Jackson." Jack frowned like he knew he should know that name, but it wasn't ringing any bells. "That's my grandfather's full name," Mac clarified.

"Henry … I thought your Gramps was Harry."

Mac smiled fondly. "He was … Just … my grandmother was an English teacher and had a real thing for Shakespeare. So she started calling him Harry when they started dating in high school."

"What the hell for?" Jack was not a literature guy by any stretch of the imagination.

"Like King Harry from _Henry V_. You must know that one."

Jack nodded, "I like all that _'once more into the breach'_ stuff. But so what if your granddad owned some property?"

"No way he owned all these places, Jack. But my dad always admired him and I know from Gramps that Dad thought he owed him a lot for taking care of me until he wasn't able." Mac frowned and his eyes grew distant for a minute, but he shook it off. "So anyway, I'm betting that Henry is who we're looking for."

Jack was thoughtful. He drained his beer and waited for Mac to do the same, then he got up and got them each another one. This seemed like a two beer conversation. "I can see where this is going," Jack offered as he sat back down. "But aren't you worried about being off the books like this? Going rogue was kind of how the Organization almost hung Patty out to dry."

Mac nodded, taking a long slow breath. "We won't really be off the books. The team will know. And Matty knows. She's documenting things the old fashioned way. This is an officially sanctioned op. It's just going to be off the grid until it's over. We won't get burned out there, Jack. Matty will back us up and because I know you're worried about it, tactical back up will only ever be a phone call away." He paused again and took a sip of his second beer. Dinner had been a long time ago and he was getting pleasantly relaxed in spite of everything. Maybe that was the beer, or maybe it was finally knowing there was some kind of end in sight around the things that had been tying him in knots since he was a kid. He asked a little tentatively, "What do you think?"

Jack got up and walked around for a few minutes, heading out onto the deck again. Mac let him wander, not wanting to interrupt Jack's analysis of the plan. While he waited, he finally went and changed into his sweats and t-shirt that he almost invariably slept in and got comfortable in his usual spot on the couch to finish his beer. Jack came back inside after a while and joined him on the couch. "I think it's a good plan. I think you're right that we have to be as off-grid as your old man has been. But, I'm not gonna pretend that I like the idea of going back to the days of a smaller team because I've appreciated having the risk spread around a little."

"It does complicate things. And I'll admit I've gotten kind of used to having back up, too."

"I maybe have an idea that fits with the plan, but keeps us from being left high and dry out there in the wide world." Mac gave him a questioning look. "I don't want to get ahead of myself. Let me make a phone call." Mac nodded as Jack got up, heading back outside with his cell phone. He grinned when he heard Jack's voice drift back in through the open doors, "Hey, there, Jessie! How are things down on the bayou? Good … good. You know I've been lookin' for an excuse to come see you and I might have a job for you guys …"

Mac got up off the couch and put his beer bottle in the recycling. He caught Jack walking back and forth on the deck having a very animated conversation with the lovely Ms. Colton. He grinned. That was a hell of a good idea. He wished he'd thought of it, but was always ready to give Jack his due when it came to the more practical aspects of their job. That conversation seemed like it might go on for a while. Mac waved at Jack, letting him know he was heading to bed. Jack raised an eyebrow at him, but went right back to chatting with Jessie. As Mac turned off his light and stretched out he was struck by how confident he felt about the upcoming mission, which he had just dubbed _Agincourt_ in his head. Jack might still miss the literary reference, but Mac was sure he'd get the historical one. The Organization was huge, well equipped, skilled, and well armed and they expected to be victorious. Mac's team was small and given that they were going out on their own for this their resources would be limited. The odds were against them. But, as Jack (and Han Solo) was fond of saying, you should never talk about the odds. Mac felt good about their chances. Mac closed his eyes and for the first time in recent memory, he expected his dreams to be pleasant. The mission would be what it would be, but he would be facing it with his own band of brothers.

"We happy few," he thought as he drifted off with a small smile.

 _The End_

Until Next Time … Coming soon – _Soul of Goodness_


End file.
